Wake Me at Dawn
by acertainphilosophy
Summary: After a horrific incident, Edward is left with no one to turn to but the Mustangs. He remembers nothing of what happened before, and struggles to move on. The trials to be faced when at the edge of the battlefield raise the stakes even higher. Together, they might reign in all their problems to form a kind of family out of this. Maybe. Parental!RoyEd, implied Royai
1. Chapter 1

Golden eyes shifted open blearily at the watery dawn light shining starkly through the thin, stylish curtains. Edward blinked a few times to clear his vision, and groaned. He turned over to look at the small analog clock on the bedside table. Five thirty. Why did the sun have to be up so freaking early in the summer? He'd gotten barely enough sleep to support even this much consciousness, and even so he knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to that beautiful haven of sweet, numb release that was sleep. At least, if he didn't have any dreams it would be that way.

The nightmares never left him.

He made a guttural sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh and lurched into a technically upright position. Toast. Yes, toast would make everything better.

He swept the hair away from his face, where it was plastered to the skin by sweat. It had gotten even longer, not that he really cared at this point. It had gotten to the length where it didn't really make a difference whether it was long or _long. _His bangs, strangely, remained the same length regardless of the passage of time. He pulled it up into a lazy ponytail with a tie from the table and pulled his legs over the side of the bed. The air outside of the covers was cold from excess air conditioning and made him shiver in his summertime sleepwear. Okay, so he just wore boxers. It counted. He sat there for a moment, not thinking about anything particularly.

It would be another slow day.

Edward took a deep breath and rose from the softness of the mattress. It was a sad departure that made him long for nighttime to come again. He had to mentally sever himself from the warm, reaching tendrils of remaining sleep as he stepped away. The next step was to get dressed. Meh. He'd gotten used to the air enough by now. Later. He would do it later.

Toast was the goal right now. He bypassed the closet and instead confronted the door to the hallway. The hallway was darker than the bedroom, with less windows. A split second of further investigation revealed that it was colder as well. He shivered heavily. Maybe it was wrong to skip dressing. Too late. The decision had already been made. With only a thin cloth covering his crotch and upper legs, he wandered out into the shadowy hallway. It was like an adventure.

He closed the door to the bedroom and watched the strip of light that came from it get thinner and disappear completely. After the earlier sunlight was removed, it proved to be much more difficult to navigate the darkened hall. Finally, he found the stairs having only bumped into two walls and the banister. One of those was a particularly hard slam to his right foot, and he had to muffle the stream of curses that exploded from his mouth, and luckily not much sound escaped. Crisis averted.

The stairs were, in Edward's opinion, too long. Who needs that many stairs? A slide would be much more efficient. On the way down. It was a work in progress. Even so, that way would be more merciful to his already damaged leg. Stairs were a difficult thing to master.

After the stairs of doom trek, he made a right turn and found the kitchen. The lights were off, but a strange white glow filled the room. He went inside. Someone had left the refrigerator door open, probably since last night. So the freaking cold ass air was not completely attributed to the unnecessarily heavy usage of air conditioning after all.

The temperature became nearly unbearable as Edward came closer to the fridge. He didn't know if it was possible to get frostbite in summer, and didn't want to find out. What if he lost his arm and needed even more automail… He chuckled to himself. That would be awkward explaining to Winr- _Ouch._ A sharp pain at the back of his head shut down his thought process completely. He lifted the hand that had been traveling to close the fridge and rubbed his head with it instead. What had he been thinking? Something… He couldn't remember. Another thought lost to the void.

He shrugged and shut the refrigerator with a soft whooshing thump. It resonated a bit in the quiet two-story house. Edward turned away from the fridge and really listened for the first time since getting up. A couple mockingbirds were going off like mad in the tree out front, and the air conditioner and the refrigerator provided quiet and constant background noise. Otherwise, the place was perfectly silent.

No one was awake, which was odd. Usually _someone _around the house got up early to do something important. Important things. He used to do those. For now, though, his mission plan consisted entirely of toast and, now that he thought about it, a restroom. He grabbed bread and placed butter and a knife neatly beside the toaster before putting it in. One slice would do. He groped around for a second and turned the light on to the lowest setting, too late in the process to actually make a difference.

Without anything more to do, he stood there lamely, tapping his fingers on the countertop. The cold didn't really bother him that much anymore, although he still missed his bed dearly. He remembered that it was still unmade but dismissed the thought. The constant whir of the air conditioning was soothing the sudden headache and calming to his ears. His breathing slowed, and he got into a more comfortable position leaning against the counter. If he shut his eyes for a while, it wouldn't really matter. They closed. He felt his head slowly dropping and resisted at first, but gave in to it after a few attempts.

His mind wandered to places he wasn't keeping track of, and soon went blank.

_Pain. So much pain. He couldn't endure much more of it. None of it mattered. Al. That name. He was crying suffering dead numb help, no, no no no no…_

_Sproing._ Edward's eyes flew open simultaneously as his muscles flew into action. He wouldn't be hurt any more. His fist flew out blindly toward the enemy, followed by a sound kick to a lower area. He found purchase on something hard that collapsed as his foot left it. Good. He could take anything, as long as he could fight-

Oh. He looked around. He had attacked the oven, the toast and the butter dish on the floor, both in pieces. The butter had landed contents first, of course, and- _Oh._ There they were, in the entrance to the kitchen.

Roy. Riza. Both with looks of mingled shock, concern, and, below that, tired annoyance. He messed up. Again.

"Uh. Hey, Mustang," he tried sheepishly. The annoyance was more prominent now that they knew he was out of the delusion and unhurt. Edward didn't blame them. These things happened far too often for his patience, as well.

"Edward," Riza started toward him with unending sympathy and tolerance. He still hated it when she got all motherly after an incident. He'd been the one to wake them up; they should have been yelling or something.

Looking at Roy, it seemed as though he might get his wish.

Roy, predictably, didn't yell, but communicated his feelings through a silent glare. Edward got it immediately. Neither of them wanted to wake Isaac.

Edward had been living at the Mustang residence for four years. He understood how things worked, at least, to the best of his mind's ability. The first rule was that Isaac should never be deprived of sleep. _Ever. _

Riza was rubbing his back in a calming motion as he stood stock still in the kitchen, trying to return Mustang's glare with his own. Just because everything was technically his fault did not mean that he would let Roy win. It didn't happen. Roy rolled his eyes and was about to leave when Edward's head exploded. It was one of _these. _

He crumpled to the ground, cradling his head. It felt as though a boulder backed by the brute force of Armstrong was coming down on his skull. Which was splitting into a thousand pieces and cutting into his exposed brain. He vaguely registered Riza shouting his name or Roy rushing in to his side. He also realized that he was screaming. And crying. And then he passed out.

Edward woke up back in the bed he never bothered to make. His head was nestled safely in the pillows, remnants of the attack still echoing around in his skull. He was glad it was over, even if he couldn't remember what had started it. He never remembered what happened before they started. Only that it was painful.

A warmth was coming from his side. Nestled there was Isaac, still wearing the footy pajamas with the trains from the night before. He must have climbed in after Edward was put there. Edward took the quiet moment to look at the young boy's face. His hair was black and straight, but his face had the soft lines and large sherry eyes of Riza. He had Roy's nose. A perfect mix of the two. There was something about him, though, that was so very _Isaac_. It was in the open innocence of his face, the soft smile that came even in sleep. Something his parents seemed incapable of, certainly.

Edward smiled at the boy. He'd known him from the time he was born, seen his face grow and change. It was contenting and nostalgic somehow.

Isaac's little brow furrowed and a little pout formed on his lower lip.

"Shh, shh. It's alright, little guy. It's just dreams. I get them too, don't worry. Shh," Edward whispered nearly silently to the small bundle next to him. He reached out and rubbed a finger against the small ear. The lines smoothed and the toddler fell back into peaceful sleep, smiling even more largely than before.

Edward sighed. It was his job to make sure that Isaac was safe. A self-appointed job, sure, but a job nonetheless. And that included nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

Edward bolted forward in the bed, launching the blankets off of himself and nearly past the foot of the bed, only one corner hanging on to the mattress while the rest fell haphazardly to the floor. He panted heavily, in and out, in and out, staring wildly around the bed but not seeing anything. He continued to do so until his senses returned somewhat, which took more time than it probably should have.

He breathed deeply a few more times, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings. Right. He was in the room with the dark hardwood floor and light blue walls. The guest bedroom. He should have called it his room by now, he had lived in it for over three years at this point. The room that had been given to him by Mustang. The room certainly looked like Roy's guest bedroom. Plain but stylish, with grey accented curtains and furniture, a full size bed against one wall. Edward shuddered to think about what had been done on that bed before he moved in, when Mustang entertained for his more … _rambunctious_ crowd on the holidays.

The blinds were pulled tight and only allowed a thin trickle of light through a crack near the bottom. It could've been any time of day with the evidence given, but he knew that he hadn't woken up in the middle of the night now. His skin was clammy and cold, as he was still wearing the boxers from before. Thinking about that, he realized that he had no idea how much time had actually passed since then.

Going by the track record for these incidents, it could've been anywhere between a few hours or a few days. He didn't particularly care which it was at the moment.

He became aware of an emptiness at his side. The cold there had more to do with a sudden lack of warmth than the cool air in the house. Something was missing… Isaac. Isaac had been there before, he remembered, and he had left recently, judging by the cold he was getting from the heat pulling away from his side. He hoped that the boy hadn't been there to see what must've been a thrashing night terror. Day terror. He rolled his eyes at himself. Same difference.

Edward had no trouble getting out of bed this time. He leapt up, the covers being thrown back already, and went to search for Isaac. No matter how much determination filled him, however, he still shivered as his feet hit the hard floor. Seriously, no place should be this cold in the dead of summer.

He trudged to the door and threw it open, somehow managing to thrust the inward-opening door into his own foot.

Several choice words muttered severely into a bitten fist later, and Edward was on his way down the stairs, looking for any sign of a small child. He knew exactly where Isaac would've gone, but was hoping that he might pick a different, and easier to reach, place this time. His left leg never worked right anymore and the universe clearly had something against his right one.

But, no matter how hard he tried to come to some other conclusion, it was clear that the toddler was in the same place he was every time he needed to be found.

The nook.

The Mustang house used to belong to a rich nobleman before Roy bought it seven years ago with a military promotion. The house was built under the direct order of the nobleman, who was very suspicious about enemies that might want to steal his wealth. He was so paranoid that he had the entire house outfitted with countless secret passages, hiding places and hidden vaults. Edward happened to know that Roy had bought the house for this very reason, and took advantage of a few of the vaults himself. He had a theory that Roy really just wanted to fool around with the passages, which he was obviously utilizing at parties. The man Roy bought the place from, the last time he heard, was now living in a remote location to the south, hiding away in a one-roomed bunker eating nothing and drinking only pineapple juice he squeezed himself with his feet. There were some real nuts in Amestris.

One of the secret passages was hidden in the long staircase that connected the building's two sizable floors. Although this was no ordinary under-the stairs closet, no. Of course it couldn't be that easy. No, the nook was on the side of the stair structure _at the top,_ about fifteen feet from the wide, glossy hardwood. How Isaac had found it, let alone get up there, let alone do so every time without being seen, Edward had no idea. He just knew that it was a real pain to get up there to get him.

He glanced around a few more corners before he gave up. There was never really any doubt to begin with. As quietly as he could, he pulled the bookcase ladder out from the library, around the corner to the wall that made the staircase. The ladder slid soundlessly on well-maintained wheels, and fit up against the wall with not so much as a thud. He took a moment to be satisfied with his work. Practice made perfect.

Tackling the climbing part of it was an entirely different matter. His left leg prosthetic didn't bend very well – actually, it didn't bend at all – and his right was still injured from two hazardous ventures down the cursed stairs. Slowly, he managed to rise upon the ladder, lifting his left leg onto the next rung and then raising his entire body up to equal height, repeat. Five cycles, nine, ten. It soon became methodic in its rhythm and easier to bear with its repetition. Before long, he'd reached the top.

There, in the wall was a small handhold, big enough for three fingers and no more, thus being nearly invisible from the floor. If one looked closely enough at the wall itself, a faint outline could be seen there, about a two-by-three foot rectangle that could easily be mistaken for an old painting placement taken down. The craftsmanship that went into the hiding place was nearly flawless.

Edward hesitated a moment before pulling the hatch open. He hadn't considered what it might've been for Isaac to see him… in that state. It could be that he didn't want to see Edward at all.

He nearly blanched at a sudden thought. What if he'd scared Isaac? The kid was still only small. Small like Ni…n… And Al-

Something snapped in his head. There was a moment of quiet, numbing absence of any thought in his head, before the pain. Splitting pain that filled his every cell and ripped him of any remaining coherence of mind. It was gone it was all gone. Gone gone gone gone gone. It was only that word. It meant nothing to him in that moment, but it resonated deep within his skull, crying out with some long lost importance. Gone gone gone. Gone from him, gone forever.

No more. A new pain shot through his head, shocking him out of whatever sort of trance that had been. He sputtered and looked around rabidly, searching for any detail that could reveal where he was or what he was doing.

Right. The ladder.

Surprisingly, he hadn't fallen off the ladder completely. His false leg in all of its unbending glory had gotten wedged firmly in the ladder as fell, catching him and forcing him to hang upside down fifteen feet in the air. Not a desirable position, but preferable to having his brains splattered onto the floor below him.

A shifting sound overhead drew his attention. He strained his neck to see directly above. Isaac was looking down at him from the nook's entrance, his face a mingled look of confusion and curiosity.

Relief filled Edward to see the child. He breathed out a sigh, celebrating the moment. If Isaac was scared or didn't want to see him, he would've hid somewhere else and most certainly wouldn't have opened the hatch.

He smiled largely at the boy.

"Well I guess I lost the element of surprise, didn't I? And here I thought I could sneak up on you for once!" he laughed. Isaac's face lit up, smile instantly morphing all of his small features into delighted relief. The boy had been scared for him.

"Ed!" Isaac shouted down to him in joy, and made to climb out of the hole.

Edward hung loosely from his precarious state on the ladder. His leg would clearly need some serious persuading before it could be removed from the rung in which it was wedged. Hopefully Isaac wouldn't see that-

_Crack. _The sound was loud and sharp, and rung out through the hall, stopping Isaac dead in his tracks and changing both of their expressions from drunken happiness to pure lethal shock. Edward hesitated only a moment before his limbs began moving automatically, arm raised to protect his head and flesh leg braced against the ladder.

Half a heartbeat later and the ladder was falling, bringing Edward's body closer and closer to the hard floor below.

He was still in his underwear.

**-philos**


	3. Chapter 3

There was a moment when nothing made sense. The only thought Edward's brain could muster was that he didn't want Isaac to see if his head exploded on contact with the ground. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be able to do something, anything, to stop this. He could move. He could…

There was nothing. Nothing but the air rushing past as the ladder toppled and the floor coming closer and closer to his head, nothing but the imminent crash below.

His eyes, the whole time, had stayed open, watching the scene tilt and tumble around him. He could see the floor, now a mere few feet from his face, and approaching rapidly. He closed them. It didn't do much good in this situation, but it prevented the shock from moving into panic.

It occurred to him that he'd had all these thoughts in much less time than it took normally, as if time were slowed. It was so familiar to him, this feeling of deceleration in tricky situations. He'd been in this sort of dilemma countless times in the past. So many times that he faced certain death and found the right move to escape with his life. It was laughable, really, that after all that he would be done in by a falling ladder and a stuck leg. Of all the stupid odds.

He could feel the ground like a force below him, his senses going wild with adrenaline. It was gone, and soon he would be too. Whatever that meant.

The expected blow came with swift vengeance, but not to his head or arm. No, it came in at his side. The blunt force against him was softer than expected, too. His direction changed suddenly, twisting violently to the right. It shook his head around with the impact, causing his brain to ricochet off the walls of his skull.

The room continued to spin and shake quite violently, but when he opened his eyes he saw that the movement had stopped. He shook his head to try to get oriented, but that only made what was sure to be a concussion of some sort even worse. Ouch. Not a good idea.

So he looked around, trying to get some sense of what in the hell was happening.

Edward sat several meters away from the ladder, tumbled into a ball on the floor. But what…

The next sight was only as shocking as it was predictable. Roy Mustang sat hunched over on the floor to his right, trace amounts of well concealed panic already receding from his face.

"M-Mustang! What're you-"

"Fullmetal! What the hell were you doing? What, I can't leave you here alone, _at home_, for five minutes without you nearly killing yourself?" Roy's lecture, though it was really not much louder than a normal talking level, felt like it was being shouted into Edward's face. The man's usually calm façade held true, but this seemed to hold more anger than usual. And that was saying something.

Edward stared at his former superior. He still called him Fullmetal when he was upset with him. Fullmetal. The name stung with guilt now. The name he had in the military was condemned after he left, but it still held that old familiarity and purpose. He had no wish for it to be his again.

Roy looked at him expectantly. Right.

"Well, you know Colonel, it would be great if you didn't blame me for your _clearly_ faulty ladder. Honestly, the thing was a deathtrap to begin with. I mean, what kind of ladder doesn't even hold a person for more than, like, four seconds? Really, Mustang, I'd say that that was a cheap buy if I ever saw one."

Ah, there was that irritated quirk behind the mask. It felt nice to see it again.

"Faulty? _Faulty_, Fullmetal? You were the one doing acrobatics off of it!"

"The specifics of it aren't important. What's important is that your ladder nearly killed me!"

"Oh, I see, you must've been too short to reach the next rung and had to make that pathetic stunt to get higher. Unfortunately, it seems to have failed-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT, YOU BASTARD?!"

There was a pause.

Roy laughed outright, and after a moment of irritated silence, Edward joined.

Their voices came clear through the space, reverberating just loud enough to fill the air around them. It was brash and quiet and careless and exactly what they needed in that moment. Their laughter provoked the reentrance of Isaac. His voice quieted them, but traces of the release remained across their faces.

"E-Ed? What happen?"

The toddler peered out from the nook above, concern written all through his knitted brow. His eyes wandered cautiously to the scene below, probing the broken ladder and the floor around it with their frightened innocence.

"Hey, buddy, don't worry. We're all fine down here." Edward reassured the boy, putting a smile into his voice.

Isaac's gaze met the two still piled on the ground. His features untangled and he started laughing with his silvery infantile giggle, and soon the whole party broke out into gleeful sound again.

Edward couldn't say how long it lasted, only that it felt so good to just let go. He couldn't even remember why they started in the first place, and for some reason that made it all the more hilarious.

So when Riza came home from a long day at the office, wondering if Roy had actually done any of the paperwork she'd sent him home to do, she entered to find Roy and Edward laughing like lunatics on top of each other on the floor with a broken pile of wood (was that the ladder from the library?) just feet away, and her two year old son in a hole in the wall more than a story above the ground.

It definitely would make for some interesting dinner conversation. At least, after they'd all been scolded severely. Then quieted with the end of a pistol after they snickered while said scolding occurred. It was more docile than they were used to around here.

Roy moved from his spot on the ground to help Edward up, and it was only after he started moving that Edward realized Roy's hand had been on his shoulder the whole time, steadying him after the fall.

Edward sat there on the floor, staring blankly at Roy's extended hand. Roy waved it around in his face, standing above him. Edward blinked and pushed it aside, getting up carefully, depending mostly on his right leg.

Looking down, he saw exactly why. The prosthetic had not come out of the fall unscathed. The fake leg was broken nearly in half at the ankle, having got caught in the ladder during the crash. It was very blatantly not going to be of any use to him until it could be repaired. Somehow.

He felt an arm fall around his shoulders. The weight alarmed him, and his head swiveled around in surprise. His eyes met immediately with steely dark ones. Their edges still played with the laughter from earlier, although even Edward could see the seriousness and concern that Roy was trying to cover up.

"Come on, let's go. Riza's already displeased enough," he said, still hinting at humor.

Edward groaned, but used the support anyway and they left together into the dining room. Riza had already managed to get Isaac down from the nook and into the kitchen to wash up before dinner.

At least Edward knew what time it was, finally.

IEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIE

Roy was seated at one end of the rectangular table, which was only large enough to fit the four of them comfortably. This was, of course, the family dining room. They had a larger dining hall for parties and such, but it was hardly ever used anymore. These last few years had really tied them up, especially with all the additions to the family. Roy had gone from living completely alone, save for a few of his, er, _courtiers,_ to living with three other people in less than half a decade.

It terrified him.

The small table sat one to a side, Riza and himself at either end and Ed and Isaac between them.

It was small enough so that it still felt like an intimate family time, but they each held their own territory of the table, a placement that separated and distinguished each person. Want to see some adorable shenanigans? Look left for Isaac. Gaze upon the beautiful face of his beloved? Straight ahead.

Now, however, he stared firmly to his right. The diminutive golden haired boy filled his sight and mind.

Edward's face seemed troubled beneath his casual bored-at-dinner face. He had nowhere near the mastery of the façade that Roy possessed, and should really know better by now than to try to cover it up. In the past, Roy would've let this slide, assuming that Edward had his own reasons for masking his feelings. However, living with the boy for three years taught him otherwise. Edward was known to push his emotions down until they consumed him, boiling over or just fizzling out altogether. Roy decided to wait on it, though. The day had been dramatic enough as it was.

He looked closer at the boy.

He'd heard people say that when you live with someone or know them very well, you often skip over their appearance and simply don't notice how they might be changing. For Roy, this was not the case. He saw Edward every day for these past years, and still nearly every day even before they'd started living together. But he never stopped _seeing_ Edward.

The boy was sixteen now, though still not much taller than a pre-pubescent. His hair, over the years, had lost its shine and became dull and pale. The fact that it had gotten much longer didn't help the appearance of his height. He rarely bothered to tangle it into a braid anymore, favoring a simple ponytail at the back of his head, if he did anything with it at all. Roy couldn't help but notice that he let it cover his face more and more often, concealing any range of emotions that Roy didn't want to guess about.

There was more than a change in hairstyle, though. And the rest of the differences hurt Roy to see. It was startling, really, how much Edward had changed since being lodged with the Mustangs. Roy could only hope that the rule of familiarity applied with Riza and Isaac, because he himself could barely stomach the sight.

Edward's skin, firstly, was pallid, if not blatantly ashy, even in the warm light from the modest chandelier hanging above. The glow formed pale shadows across his face and upper body. The bones that shown underneath were disturbingly skeletal, stretching the skin like canvas over their ridges. His face was thinner now, too, and couldn't quite compare to the vibrant liveliness that it held so long ago. That fire, the energy, was depleted with his frame, and to Roy it was almost as if he was missing an old friend.

How foolish. Roy chastised himself inwardly. Edward was right there, in front of him. Looking nearly pissed off at Roy for staring at him for so long. He was right there. He wasn't gone, and he was still the same person. Still Ed.

But deep in his heart or soul or whatever, Roy knew that Edward had changed. The old Edward had leaked out of his cracked frame years ago, leaving only a nearly hollow shell of who he used to be.

But it couldn't be like this forever, no, Roy would make sure of that. He would make Edward better.

He started by breaking his gaze away from the increasingly angering pipsqueak and looked down to the boy's plate.

"Eat your vegetables, Fullmetal."

Ed gave him a death glare before returning to his plate, pushing the greens around with his fork and muttering darkly about creepy flame bastards.

Roy allowed himself a smile at the superiority of his mask, stern voice and all, and the pleasingly disgruntled reaction it earned. He still had it. He was quick to direct his smirk downward to his own plate, disguising it with a forkful of potato.

Keeping his head down, he shifted his eyes to look over at Riza and Isaac. She was leaning over to Isaac's portion of the table, helping him manage his juice. Even from that position, it looked like she had somehow caught his brief smile because she met his gaze evenly and rolled her eyes. She turned back to Isaac hastily, though, because somehow in the two seconds she'd been looking away he'd spilled juice on his white undershirt.

Roy grimaced. Juice. In what they now called the legacy of Edward Elric, Isaac had somehow picked up on the milk-hating trait. Roy had cursed Edward's name countless times before, and it would be on his head if Roy's son grew up to be just as miniscule as the Fullmetal midget over there.

The stain was not coming out of the shirt, he saw, and Riza looked about to give up on it. With a few more avid scrubs, she sighed and opted instead to pull the garment over the boy's head and roll it into a ball, presumably intended to go directly into the wash after dinner.

Of course, if he'd had milk, this wouldn't be a problem.

Riza rose from the table with her empty plate and the shirt, signaling the end of the meal. Roy's eyes went to Edward's plate. He nearly groaned. The boy hadn't eaten half of what was there.

He was sitting there with his head on one hand, dragging the fork lackadaisically through what was left.

Roy leaned over to his side and plucked the fork from his hand, lifting with it a heaping pile of potato. Before Edward could say anything in protest, he shoved the entirety of it into the boy's open mouth.

His eyes widened in shock as his nose crinkled up, but his surprise thankfully made him swallow the mouthful at once. Of course, it was maybe a little bit more than he could handle.

Roy stood above Edward's doubled over, coughing form, keeping his composure beautifully.

"There you go, Fullmetal. You're off the hook after that bite. You may leave."

Roy then turned and left, taking his plate with him to the kitchen. Riza was waiting there for him with a reprimanding look. Roy returned it with his I-had-no-other-choice eyes and she turned away from him, although he could see the beginnings of an amused grin on her face.

He stared then at the mound of dishes that built up in the sink over the past week. They'd both been too preoccupied to really get to washing them until now, and the hot summer air wasn't much more motivating. It took a while to wash all the dishes, with Riza working efficiently and Roy working not so efficiently to the point where it was actually detracting from her work effort. After half an hour of this, she finally sent him out of the kitchen to let her work alone.

Now that he was dismissed from dish washing, he wandered out into the foyer with nothing really in mind. He stood there for a minute, just enjoying the calm. It was good to finally have some time at home, now that he was allowed to bring some of his desk work from the office. He was high up in ranks now, promoted to General three years ago. Heck, if it hadn't been for his military placement or a select few well-wrought connections in the government, he and Riza wouldn't have been able to be married at all, let alone live together with a child. It was nice, to finally be able to breathe freely when it came to his relationships outside of work.

His thoughts brought him to actually sigh in relief out loud, leaning now against the staircase. Which reminded him, he'd need to get a new library ladder after that incident today.

He shook his head to rid himself of the image of Edward falling. The gut wrenching terror he felt as he saw that fragile body fall so helplessly to the unforgiving ground, limp like a ragdoll. Eyes closing so slowly, as if he'd already accepted it.

Roy knew one thing for certain: Edward Elric could not give up. It was a fact. So those golden eyes, closing so very slowly, that was what put more fear into his chest than anything else.

Then there was the broken prosthetic. Roy had no idea what they could do about that. With the Rockbell girl unable to service Ed's limbs anymore, they'd been reluctantly relying on cheaper made replacements from a city near Central. They wouldn't be available to make Edward a new leg any time in the next few months, as the owner was visiting some other city in the desert for an extensive trip to 'better learn the craft' or something. Automail was quickly becoming a dead industry as of late, so their options were limited to say the least.

Roy then remembered the implications of Edward's broken leg. How he'd left him, practically on the floor in the dining room.

He was soon speeding around the corner to the dining room to search for signs of life.

The room was dark when he got there, which (probably) bode well. Sure enough, Ed was nowhere to be seen, floor or otherwise. It looked like the kid had somehow made it up the stairs already. He gave the room another once-over, and found that Isaac was gone as well. Hopefully they were both upstairs.

Only one way to find out.

He had to consciously make his movements slow and deliberate as he ascended the flight.

Halfway up, he heard voices emanating from above. This was reassuring, and he felt himself smile when he heard his son's gentle laughter.

He could laugh like that only around Edward.

The rest of the stairs went by on much lighter feet, and he was soon at the entrance to the bathroom. The sound led here. The door was closed, but the commotion inside was unmistakable. Roy was glad that they'd finally learned to get ready for bed by themselves. He stood outside the door for a minute. They were quieter now, as if they could sense Roy just beyond the boundary. Suspicious.

Roy cracked the door, and peered inside. The boys' heads were turned away from the entrance, so at least he could still have some confidence in his stealth. From what he could see, Isaac was sitting on the counter next to the sink and Edward was on the floor. The latter was mostly concealed by the door, with only a sheet of loose golden hair and the shoulder of a large black t-shirt in view. Huh, so the kid actually _did_ know how to get dressed. That was surprising, given that he'd worn nothing but boxers, sweatpants and wife beaters for the past two weeks.

He saw the shoulder lurch forward. From their positions, it looked like they were examining something on the floor opposite to Roy. Edward had just gone to… pick it up, from what he could tell. The boy leaned back with something hefted in his hand.

Roy's curiosity got the better of him and his spy session was over. He pushed the door open fully, which creaked yet for added effect. Both of the room's inhabitance twisted around in alarm. Now he knew something was up.

"What's happening in here?"

Their wide eyes searched his face for anger, and finding none, invited him closer to see whatever it was that had them acting so peculiarly.

Roy stepped forward into the small room apprehensively. When he got close enough, he leaned over Edward's shoulder, which was still blocking his view of whatever held their attention.

He looked into the boy's left hand, where held a large screw between two thin fingers. Roy looked at them in confusion.

"A screw, Fullmetal? What is this?" He moved forward to get a better look at it, putting a hand on Edward's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind the contact.

Edward parted his lips to answer, but Isaac beat him to it.

"Ed help me brush my teeth, then he went BOOM down to the ground and his leg went _chinkachink_, and then it broke more. And I told him not to use it, 'cause it was already really broke," the toddler explained in tilting, uneven syllables, pitch reaching impressive heights on the sound effects.

From what Roy could gather with the sketchy explanation and avid hand motions, Edward was trying to use his broken leg, like an idiot, and managed to destroy it more than it already had been. Just great. He stood up and sighed, closing his eyes.

"Hey, I was only using the knee to balance a little. Just a little! And it fell apart entirely on its own. I didn't even use it to get up here," the teenager huffed in defense.

"Yeah, we play mountain climb the stairs!" Isaac giggled out, shifting around a bit on the counter. He did not seem to be concerned with the current predicament any longer.

"Well, how broken is it?"

"Uh," Edward responded helpfully. He moved around with some effort and managed to drag the prosthetic out from under himself. Roy stooped closer to investigate.

Geez, it was worse than he'd expected. The thing was completely shattered off at mid-calf, with longer cracks running up and down the length of it. It made an uncomfortable rattling sound as he moved it. Edward adjusted it a little so Roy could see it better, and several more parts spilled out.

"Oh,"

"Yeah, 'Oh'." Roy put a hand to his face in exasperation.

No matter how long it had been, this just never got any easier.

What was he going to do?

**-philos**


	4. Chapter 4

Roy plucked Isaac up from the counter and held him close with one arm, acting casual. He turned again so that Edward was nearly in front of him, adjusting the toddler into a neater position against his chest.

"So how far did you actually get in your night work before you, ah, fell like an old woman?"

Edward's face was clearly not amused.

"The hell, you bastard… I mean, yeah, Isaac's done with all his stuff. He only needs to go to bed now." Edward readjusted his speech with a quick glance at the toddler. Roy, of course, did not appreciate the slip and returned the statement with a reprimanding glare.

Even so, Edward's words proved true as the boy's head slumped against Roy's shoulder and his eyes struggled to stay open. They fluttered closed only to shoot open again before shutting entirely. A gentle snore came out in almost the same instant.

Roy sighed. At least there would be no war in getting him to sleep tonight. Sometimes he would refuse to even think about sleep without Ed there with him, and there were times when even that wasn't enough. Two nights ago, the same day Edward had had one of his episodes in the early morning, was one of the hard nights. Edward, being in his passed-out state, could not come for Isaac in the night, and eventually he just climbed into Edward's bed by himself and slept there.

Roy thought that maybe this could be problematic, but, by Riza's phrasing, 'As long as he's not crying, leave him be. I'm tired, you're tired, and he's finally asleep. That is good enough for me.' So it looked like it turned out alright.

He nodded at Edward, leaving him on the floor (again), and carried Isaac from the bathroom. Isaac's room was the smallest one, at the end of the hall. It was directly next to Roy and Riza's, and two rooms away from Edward's. Roy entered the room, which was still decorated fully with little bears, and plopped the sleeping toddler into his tiny, railed-in bed. He righted himself and cracked his back, wondering when the little bundle had gotten so heavy.

At least one of the boys was eating right.

He took one last look at his son before switching on the bear-themed night light and gingerly shutting the door, making sure to leave it just barely ajar. The boy liked a sliver of light coming into his room, and the ability to open it by himself in the night. Given his parentage, it wasn't surprising that he liked to have some control.

He went to go back to the bathroom to assist Edward, who knew what he was trying to do in there alone, but first made a stop in the hallway. He needed to turn the air conditioner up a bit. It was a blazing summer outside the house's walls, the hottest they'd had in over a decade. Roy liked heat, sure, he was the Flame Alchemist, but in moderation. Really, it was unbearable for everyone.

With the temperature modified satisfactorily, he could continue down the hall.

He came back to bathroom and yanked the door open abruptly. Apparently, Edward had not been expecting a sudden visitor.

He was balanced carefully on his right leg, left raising to the side in an attempt to stay upright. In one hand he held a large bath towel, moving it around wildly on the sink. That was when Roy noticed the water. It was everywhere. The floor, the counter, the sink. Edward. He was sopping; hair, clothes, everything.

"The sink… The sink kind of – broke, and, I swear it was an accident! But now it's kind of everywhere, and just… Just help me with this," Edward let out in a garbled stream. He struggled to contain the fast-spilling water as it sprayed like a geyser from the broken sink tap.

Roy hesitated a moment, unsure whether he should rush in to help or just point and laugh. While the second option was amusing… That was his sink tap. Which he would have to take responsibility for eventually.

He grabbed a towel off the rung and came in closer, but Edward obstructed his path. He was not in any position to move to either side with only one leg, so Roy made do and put his arms around the smaller, reaching for the tap.

It wasn't so broken. He and Edward were able to stem the flow with their combined efforts long enough for Roy to seize the head of it from the counter and reattach it. The water stopped. They both watched for a second, then sat back in relief. Too much relief. Edward fell backward and Roy had to catch him, thankful that he was standing behind the boy. But Ed turned immediately, on reaction, and shoved him away, pushing himself into the sink. Oof, that was his spine…

Edward recovered quickly and opted to sit down soundly on the floor, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened. They were both entirely soaked. Edward huddled in his too-large t-shirt, now plastered to his skin, and shivered slightly.

Roy leaned back on the edge of the tub, eyes going from Edward back to the sink. When it was certain that the porcelain enemy would not resume its siege, he spoke.

"How… _exactly_… did that happen?"

"Well, I, um, _tried_ to use the faucet… and fell… and my arm swung around... so it broke you fixed it and here we are."

"Honestly," Roy grumbled, leaning forward on the tub. It seemed as though every bad turn had to have a lasting effect that led to another bad turn. It had been this way for too long now, even before the ladder or the leg. It all stemmed from that time three years ago.

Roy inwardly grimaced and pushed the thought aside. It was not something he needed in his mind right now. Or ever.

He took a breath and stood, addressing Edward again.

"What have you done so far? I suppose there's no need for a shower," Roy said slyly, noting that Edward's appearance resembled a drowned kitten more and more by the minute.

With a rather ticked off expression, Ed replied.

"No, I guess not. Maybe we should do this instead of showering more often."

They both cringed, though smirking.

"So I really did nothing in here but break the sink," he admitted plaintively.

"I'm shocked."

"Oh, like you get anything done, either," Edward shot back. "Where's all that paperwork you brought home, Mustang? Right, sitting untouched on your desk. You pen is shouting 'Help me, Mustang, help me, I need to be used!' and the papers are probably so high that your office could just be called a library of unfinished work."

Edward drabbled on in an overly dramatic mocking tone, ridiculously high pitched and theatrical. Roy almost rolled his eyes.

"You're worse than Riza, albeit without a gun pointed to my head. But really, I think I'd prefer her barrel to your ridiculous voice. What, did you never hit puberty, Fullmetal? That would explain why you're so unbelievably stunted."

"YOU BASTARD COLONEL! I'M NOT SHORT!"

Roy gestured dramatically to Isaac's room with a finger to his mouth, which may have been smirking slightly.

"You bastard Colonel," Ed repeated in a hushed jab.

Roy waved him off.

"Get moving, Fullmetal. I haven't got all night here."

Edward grumbled and stood to brush his teeth, balancing carefully this time with one hand on the sink's edge. Roy hovered nearby, ready to come in if the boy slipped. Judging from recent events, his balance was not to be trusted. A great revelation, given that said terrible balance was possessed by someone with just one leg to work with. It was a good thing that Roy could work from home for the next few weeks.

Most of the bathroom work went by without incident, until there was only one thing left. And that was arguably the worst. Edward seems to realize this and inched away from Roy a bit.

"So that's all done then, I'll be off. Bye-"

Roy pulled him back from his awkward one-legged shuffle and placed him directly at his side.

"Fullmetal, your pill."

"Oh, come on, Mustang, one miss won't hurt anything," Edward pleaded.

Roy went about this with the 'tough love' approach, one he favored greatly, and silently opened the medicine cabinet. He refused to look at Edward's face as he pulled the pill bottle from a middle shelf. The bottle was almost empty. He'd have to get it refilled soon. He twisted off the child-proof lid with practiced ease and plucked out a disk-shaped white tablet. It was average sized, for a pill, and supposed to be administered every twenty-four hours with water.

The thing had a sedating effect that made the panic attacks and anxiety less, but it also muddled the brain and caused drowsiness. And, Roy now remembered, impaired coordination and balance. Even with the side effects, it was still worth it.

He continued, still keeping his gaze confined to what he was doing, and poured tap water into a paper cup. Whew. The tap still worked. It was only when he finished everything he could possibly prepare that he turned to the boy.

Edward had once again concealed his expression with a curtain of yellow hair. He no longer resisted the pill, though it became routine for Roy to help him swallow it. It wasn't that Ed was incapable of taking it on his own, but the experience had always been demeaning to him and, no matter how much he would deny it, he felt reassured by Roy's presence while he was reminded of mortality and the problems with his own.

Roy waited patiently for Edward to come over to him. He always did. It was at least some control he could have in this situation.

After a short hesitation, he walked slowly forward until he stood directly next to Roy. Roy lifted the pill and he took it from him, lifting it to his mouth and swallowing heavily. Roy stood close through it all.

It was over. Roy returned the bottle to the cabinet. They left the bathroom in comfortable silence, partly because both of them would rather not talk about the pill, and partly because Isaac and Riza were both sleeping by now. Roy helped Edward to his room with a hand at his elbow to make up for the useless leg, and took him to his bed before they parted.

Roy was about to leave when he heard a drowsy murmur from the bed. The medicine was already taking effect.

"G'night, bastard."

"You too, Ed."

And with that, he left the boy in darkness.

IEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIE

Edward hated waking up after the pill, especially when he'd gone dry for two days beforehand. It made him feel woozy and bleary, and certainly not in the mood to deal with a still-damp t-shirt and bright sunlight. He rolled away from the irritating glare and pulled a pillow up over his head. It smothered his nose a little, but he didn't care enough to readjust it.

The blankets had actually stayed on while he slept, which only stood testament to how well the medication knocked him out. It was, admittedly, good to sleep through the night without wild nightmares, and the blankets kept like a shield between his moist shirt and the cold environment outside.

It was going to be another slow day.

**-philos**


	5. Chapter 5

Edward rolled over to his right side to make his left leg, or what was left of it, more comfortable. His right arm sprawled out next to him, fingers he couldn't feel clutching a small, red rubber ball that he couldn't remember getting. He looked on at his arm. It was a weird feeling, not being able to feel anything from it. He could still utilize it and it functioned decently, but it was more of an extension of his body than a part of it.

The arm was spread out to its fullest reach, partially under the bed. His current position gave him a full view of the bed's hidden underbelly, which was most definitely not as clean as it was before he'd gotten it. Clothes were shoved underneath, along with several books that had gone unnoticed from the downstairs library and a few stray hair-ties. He felt a sudden tingling in his nose and sneezed tremendously. Apparently, there was a lot of dust below there, as well.

The jarring motion of the sneeze made him realize that his back was very much in disagreement with being against the hard wooden ground, with an ache that ran all through his side and neck. He sat up with a small grunt, abandoning the ball to the abyss as it rolled from loose fingers. It was no fun, anyway. All he'd been doing for the past half hour was throwing the ball against the closet door and watching it bounce back. He could do without ever seeing that particular ball again.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and rolled his neck around, but the crick in it refused to release. He sighed. There would be a knot there all day now. Or, rather, the remainder of the day. It must've been at least past noon by now, but he hadn't left his room all day. The leg really was just too much trouble to deal with today.

He put a hand to his face. If he hadn't been drugged, he would've had the strength to face this problem. It was stupid how much they messed with his brain, and he couldn't do anything to prevent it.

That was enough to get him to stand up, using the bed for assistance, and balance carefully on his right leg. He would go downstairs today. He couldn't let anything control him like this, especially not a tiny little tablet from a bottle. He was bigger than that tablet. He could break that tablet, be stronger than that tablet. Itty bitty, miniscule little tablet. _He_ wasn't small. Haha, stupid tiny tablet.

This thought process powered his journey to the door, as he edged along, leaning on various pieces of furniture in the room. He could make it to that door. One more push off of the dresser and-

Oof. The world spun around as his balance gave out, and suddenly he was on the floor again. The first thing that registered was the pain shooting daggers through his head. He vaguely remembered the near-concussion with the ladder incident. It only made his head hurt worse.

His back and neck screamed in protest at being forcefully reunited with the floorboards. He could feel the ridges of his spine and shoulder blades where they connected with the hard surface, cold through his now mostly dry shirt. The plain white ceiling filled his vision, giving his mind nothing to distract the discomfort.

He lay there for a moment, trying to reorient his brain, because it seemed like the whole room had taken up gymnastics. Geez, even the door was moving… No, the door actually _was_ moving. It swung open (hitting Edward's shin, mind you) to reveal a very unamused Roy.

Or, at least, he seemed unamused. Edward had to really concentrate on his face to try to piece together exactly what expression he was making. It was difficult to say because his nose was currently floating around somewhere on his forehead.

"Hey, Colonel. H-" Edward's voice halted, much to his disgust. "How's it going?"

"Should I even ask anymore?" Roy said in a voice filled with exasperation, mostly to himself.

Well, that answered the question of his mood.

"So, why'd you come up here, then?"

"With the noise you were making up here, there was no way I could work at my desk in peace-"

"And by work you mean sleep," Edward interrupted fluidly. Roy eyes read pure annoyance. Edward rotated his hand, indicating that he should continue. Roy did not seem to take the hint, or, more likely, he had had it with Edward's shenanigans at that point.

"So," Edward prompted. Roy took it.

"So your chaotic crashing up here, which was strangely reminiscent of some _other_ events, recently, was heard even in the basement, so I-"

"Was sleeping,"

"And will stop telling your short self how obnoxious you were being if you don't stop interrupting."

"You B-"

"Oh, would you get off the floor already, before you start yelling, Fullmetal. Being so near to the ground isn't really helping your cause."

Edward continued mutinous muttering as he rose slowly from the floor, using the dresser drawers for assistance and ignoring what might've been an outstretched hand. Finally, he was standing in front of Roy at the fullest height he could manage.

"Hm, nope. Still not much of a difference. Sorry, short fry."

"Short fry?! SHORT FRY?! I'LL- _Isaac_, hi, buddy,"

Edward stopped short (no pun intended) when he saw Isaac peering in through the doorframe. He was decked out in jeans and a t-shirt, knees and elbows muddied and grass-stained.

"Ed, I been outside. I sorry you couldn't come," Isaac said bashfully, prodding at the floor with the toe of his sneaker and looking down at his wrung hands.

"Nah, it's no big deal. You go outside whenever you want, okay? I'll just have to be stuck in here with Mr. Grumpity-McCan't-take-a-joke while you're gone."

Isaac laughed. Roy nearly smiled as he watched the exchange. He looked like a giant standing next to his son, and lifted the small boy into his arms. The resemblance between the two was more obvious when they had their faces next to each other's, black hair mingling between them and becoming undistinguishable from one another. Isaac's face was definitely cuter, though.

"Daddy likes jokes! See!" Isaac turned his head, stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, making monkey noises. Roy chuckled rather unexpectedly.

Edward knew his own smirk looked strange, but couldn't help it. This was the same tactic he'd used countless times to get Isaac to laugh. The boy was growing into a fine young man. If there was one thing Edward could pass on, he was glad that it was his maturity.

Roy and Isaac's mirth was slowly dying down, giving more attention to Edward. He realized that he was shaking slightly on his precarious stance.

"How about we all go down for some lunch?" Roy suggested almost cheerfully. Wow, today really was a weird day for him. He offered a casual arm to Edward and he took it, if only to prevent himself from falling immediately. He soon regretted that decision, however, as he was dragged roughly from the sanction of his room and down the dreaded stairs.

Isaac led the way on his surprisingly quick little toddler legs, Roy following close behind with Edward still latched onto his arm. The kitchen was not as cold as the last time he'd been there, which, now that he thought about it, was about three or five days ago. He rubbed his head. Maybe it was a concussion after all.

Roy deposited him into a barstool, head still reeling, and lifted Isaac onto the counter next to him.

Edward took a minute to readjust, and then looked up at Roy across the kitchen. And laughed. The man was fastening a ridiculous polka-dotted red apron with little flame decals on the sides around his waist. Edward would let this one slide. Better jokes would come later.

"Alright, you two. What do you want for lunch?"

"I didn't know you cooked."

"Of course I do. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Well, Riza normally does all the cooking, or we order something. I haven't seen you cook once in my life."

Roy took actual offense to this.

"I have to be able to cook, because Riza won't be here to cook for us during the day all summer, now, will she? I've cooked for myself plenty of times before! … A couple of times before…"

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"Just tell me what you want."

"Ham sandwich!" Isaac burst out in between them.

"Sure. You just watch, Fullmetal, this is going to be the best ham sandwich you'll ever have."

The Flame Alchemist turned to the fridge and got to work, pulling out ingredient after ingredient. Edward was sure that half of them had nothing to do with sandwiches at all. A few confused minutes later and Roy was presenting them with their lunches. It was what looked to be a black, foul-smelling crisp topped with soggy bread and an unidentifiable vegetable thing on the side.

"We're all going to starve, aren't we?"

**-philos**

**Note - More or less Isaac in the story? Please tell me how much you do/don't like his inclusion, so I can decide on what to do with him. **


	6. Chapter 6

After Roy's disaster in the kitchen, they'd cleared out the smell with some trouble and over the course of the next half hour figured out how to order lunch from a nearby restaurant. It was almost dinnertime now, anyway, but Roy got grumpy if he went without at least two meals a day. Roy, of course, did not bring this up when questioned, rather turning away and 'hmph'ing coolly. That was a clear foreboding of future grumpiness, so they continued the order without further complaint. Edward looked down at his food, chewing slowly and silently. He could hear Roy and Isaac sitting in their usual spots around the table, doing the same.

The food couldn't have come quick enough. When it did, it was taken abruptly from a startled delivery man, brought inside and put on the table. Roy remembered a moment later to reopen the door and shove a crumpled payment out into the man's chest, who was still standing there in much the same state that they'd left him. Then the men descended upon the meal. It was a wild thing to witness. Edward was glad that they'd calmed down enough to eat now at the table. He sat patiently, listening to the quiet noises the other two made as they ate but not really wanting anything else for himself. His head still hurt.

The bay window that took up most of the wall behind him was open for once, and the day outside was grey and dreary with a full cover of heavy clouds low in the sky. Probably humid as all heck, too, this time of year. The watery light flooded down into the room in front of him, accentuating the steel grey walls with cool bluish outdoor light. He could see his own shadow on the table and his plate, darkening a thin figure that mirrored his own. He could see that his hair was an ungodly mess, falling around his shoulders and sticking out in a million other directions. His hands unconsciously rose to tie it into a braid, but the tangles proved to be too worthy an adversary and he gave up within moments. It took him some time to even get his fingers unwrapped from the mass of hair.

It wasn't like he was going out anytime soon. Ha, he'd never cared about what he looked like even when he had been allowed to go outside, and now that he was in the confines of this house he felt self-conscious about it. It was either a testament to his maturing age or to just how far his appearance had degraded that he would start to mind it. If it was the latter, and he was suspecting that it was, it felt rather pathetic.

Now that he thought about it, he must look awful in other places than his hair. He never slept well, never went outside, never bothered to wash properly. He never _felt_ well. He didn't change his clothes often enough or get up to move around often enough. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked into a mirror. He couldn't remember even seeing any mirrors at all.

He sat up a little in the wooden chair, lifting his back from the support. That was strange. Why hadn't there been a single mirror in the Mustang house? There never had been, that he could recall. And with _Roy_ living there, there definitely should have been at least one mirror somewhere.

Edward's shoulders slumped. It could, no, most likely had something to do with him. He was the problem. He was always the problem. But why, of all things, keep his appearance a secret? He knew what his face looked like. Or, at least, he _thought_ he knew what his own face looked like. He could remember, in the back corners of his mind, how his eyes were gold and his hair was gold, how his skin was slightly tanned, face slightly round but with a definitive jaw.

His hand rose, unsure, to his cheek, fingers lightly grazing over its surface, probing for anything unexpected. He didn't know. Even if that had been his face, it surely wasn't now. The flow of time was certain to have swept up some of these features, blurring, changing. His face would be different now, after the majority of his teen years had passed, and his skin would be paler from all the time he spent inside. If that was all that had changed, he would be grateful.

But what if the face in his memories was not his at all? The hair matched; it was the only part of himself he could see anymore. But there were many faces in his mind. Faces that could not be explained, faces that felt like they should be important. What if one of those was his face? What if what he thought was his face was really just another figment? He couldn't know. He had no way to know. It wouldn't be anywhere near the first time his mind had played games with him. He could never know.

He started breathing heavily. He felt a panic attack coming, one of the slow ones. The kind that came by a series of events or thoughts rather than one single trigger. He hated this kind worse. He knew it was coming on, could feel it slowly taking over his functioning, but could do nothing to stop it. It was like standing on top of a glass platform, with crack after crack breaking into the surface but having nothing to prevent more cracks from appearing. You know that once it cracks too much, it will break and you will fall through to the dark abyss below, and there is no way to stop it. Crack. Crack. Inevitability saturates the moment.

The air was coming in jagged, rushed gasps now. He could see his vision hazing, and hoped that he would just pass out from oxygen deprivation. That would save everyone some trouble.

The sound of his exhale inhale exhale teemed through the air in the dining room. Roy's head shot up, only looking at Edward for a millisecond before acting. He jumped up from Isaac's side, where he'd been feeding the toddler, and bolted over, practically launching over the table. Edward barely registered the movement, hyperventilating worse yet and leaning in on himself. He clutched his hands to his shoulders, rocking back and forth slightly. He couldn't recall what had set it off anymore, just the pain and fear of what was inescapable filling his mind. Then there was nothing else. He was stuck. Falling into his own head, deeper and deeper. Visions came and took over. He was gone.

_Alphonse. That was the name. That was the face. Where was Alphonse? Brother. He was his brother. Where was he? The little brother he loved and protected. He should be taking care of him, someone, Who was it again? The face, kind little eyes, and then a suit of metal. The armor from both his most gentle dreams and his most vicious nightmares. It hurt him. There was pain pain pain gone gone gone gone. There was nothing._

Gentle eyes came into view. He started for a moment, but quickly realized that these were not the same eyes. They were not… Were they? He couldn't think of them anymore. The image was gone, to be replaced with Isaac's open face. The boy was staring down at him from above, which led to the discovery that he was lying down. It was a dream. An attack.

"Ed. You okay now?" Isaac's voice was apprehensive, which immediately sent Edward spiraling into guilt. His fault.

He grinned and muttered some reassurances, but Isaac's quick acceptance and sudden swing back into happiness made his smile more authentic. The boy sprung up from Edward's torso, emptying them of air quite efficiently, and stumbled over to the wide French doors.

Edward saw that they were in the library, now that the face had moved away from his view. He'd been lain carefully across one of the older brown couches. He was grateful for this, because those were the most comfortable and would not cause his aching body any more stress. It had gone through enough in the last few days.

He knew, this time, that he was only out for a few hours. He could feel that much. It was in how his muscles restarted, the grogginess of his brain. Yes, this one was small. And he probably hadn't even attacked anything this time. Probably.

Isaac was gone already, Edward saw, as the heavy door was shut clumsily from the other side. He was likely going for a game of hide and find, which was initiated regularly and without announcement. It had become a sort of ritual for them, to play the game after something had gone wrong. Something was usually either recovering from going wrong or in the process of going wrong, so it happened frequently enough to be commenced without warning. It had originally spawned from the hidden passages in the house, and how convenient they were for the game. It was fun, even with only two participants.

The hideaways certainly made the game more interesting. Even after years of playing the same game, it was constantly changing. They had not yet discovered all of the secrets that were held in and beneath its walls.

Edward grinned in earnest as he sat up. He could finally do something he enjoyed.

He sat up fully and launched himself off of the couch. Only to have the smile promptly removed as his face made contact with the floor. Right, the damn leg…

He heard soft malicious chuckling from the corner of the room. He lifted his poor head from the ground. Upon closer survey, it was made clear that one Roy Mustang was seated calmly in the corner of the room, waiting to scare the shit out of unsuspecting passerby from a brown leather throne. Or recliner. Roy's cool and heavy-weighted presence made it seem like a throne. Just what the hell was he doing sitting there so quietly?

"Oi, Mustang. Get your lazy ass over here and help me up." Edward wasn't really in the mood to be waited on, but wanted the bastard to move. It was too creepy with him just sitting there like that. Edward had a feeling that Roy had been there waiting for him to wake up longer than Isaac had. Why he suspected so, he didn't know. His notion could be completely off. His head was still messed up from the medication and several near-concussions.

Roy rose from the chair without question, stranger still, and walked over to Edward. There. That was all he'd wanted. He didn't really need the help.

He tried to push himself off of the ground and back to the couch, making it as far as an awkward crouch on one knee and clenched fist. His arms were trembling.

Roy tried to intervene with ungloved hands, placing one on Edward's arm and the other braced against the couch. Edward brushed him off with a swipe from his right arm, which had to snap quickly back into position after to prevent him from falling on his face again. He was disgusted by his own weakness.

Roy sighed heavily above him. Edward was sure he felt the same way.

He was tired of being so pathetic.

IEIEIIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEE

After Isaac ran off, Roy was left alone with Edward, who apparently had yet to notice him. The boy stared at the door, face a strange mingle of contentedness, excitement and worry. These emotions warred against each other, fighting voraciously for dominance. Finally, the brighter two won out and he seemed to relax into a smile, having made some sort of decision. It was interesting to watch, and rather reassuring. Especially after seeing the same face filled with nothing but fear and hollowing guilt for hours. Although the two faces were similar in basic features, nothing else would point to the two expressions belonging to the same person. It was alarmingly amazing how he could change so quickly.

Then he saw Edward lean forward. He wasn't going to…

But he was. Roy saw it coming, the leg that wasn't there springing forward faithfully to catch the momentum of the body. Treachery. It did not come anywhere near the ground, and the rest of him soon collapsed in its absence. It was funny, hilariously funny. Even though he could see it coming a mile off, it still felt like watching it unfold in slow motion. Edward didn't register it at first, either, and looked only confused as his face neared the floor. Brilliant.

Roy let out a chuckle, and tried very hard to hold in the laughter bursting in his chest. Edward did not appreciate his efforts.

He summoned him to his side, irritated as ever. Roy raised his eyebrows expectantly, but the smile remained as he got up off of his recliner and walked nonchalantly over to Edward. One more fall wouldn't be the death of the kid. His asking for help might've worried Roy, if not for the demeanor in which it was requested. He clearly had no intention of accepting any help.

As suspected, Edward refused Roy's hand and instead tried to push himself up instead. That was when Roy received the first shock he'd had this whole experience. Edward's arms were shaking. He could not move himself.

As he thought back on it, he realized that this was probably an expected result. The way he ate, the way he slept, the way he lived was not enough, was not good enough to keep him in any average physical condition. But seeing it in front of him this way… Roy sighed. It was his fault.

He was responsible for Edward. He had to be Edward's protector, his guardian. And he was failing miserably. Just look at the way he was struggling to lift even his own weight. It wasn't right.

He stopped merely suggesting his help and instead applied it forcefully, inserting his arm beneath his flesh arm. It was clammy from the sweat of nightmares.

He lifted Edward easily from the floor, placing him gently on the couch. This wouldn't go over well. He almost reconsidered, looking at Edward's form. He was still shaking, shoulders slumped and hair over his face. Roy was about to say something to make sure that Ed's mind was still all there, when the boy looked up at him. Right in the eye, fragments of the old fire bright and present in his glare. His face spoke only aggravated annoyance, with a stern mouth and lowered brow. It reminded Roy greatly of the Edward that had been three years ago, the one that had been slowly fading ever since, and it hit him hard. Like an ironclad fist to his gut.

"What the hell, Mustang?"

"I thought you wanted help," Roy responded slyly, nerves returning in time to extend his rebuttal.

"I just wanted to see if you'd actually move, I mean, you might've learned to sleep with your eyes open by now."

"Very funny, Fullmetal. I see that the blow to your head didn't do any damage to your sense of comedy."

"At least I'm not some old man who doesn't even know what comedy is," Edward said with a smirk and raised eyebrow. He was waiting for retaliation.

Roy's jaw set forward and he was tempted to provide some sarcastic remark, greatly tempted. He _was not_ old, very young actually if you looked at his military records and accomplishments. But he resisted. Riza was going to be home in half an hour and he had not done any work at all.

"Sorry, but I have to leave this childish discussion where it is. I have work to do," he called over his shoulder as he walked to the connecting hallway. Edward made a sound of disgruntled argument, and started to say something, but stopped himself. Hopefully it wasn't too important.

Roy rushed to the basement, where his renovated home office was just at the bottom of the stairs. He preferred it to his military office only because it was closer to his bed. In reality, even this office he stayed away from as much as possible because, at home or outside it, work was still work. A dreadful chore of piles and piles of papers he cared nothing about. It was all he could do not to groan outright.

He seated himself in the newly-reupholstered mahogany chair and lifted his pen. It was like resigning one's own self to torture. Mindless, brainless torture that had no end. Only more papers.

He signed stack after stack, making a note here or writing a summary there. It was tedious and boring and he'd rather walk away from it. He was starting to miss the debate with Edward.

Lift paper, scan roughly to make sure he wasn't giving weapons to terrorists, sign, and move to done pile. Repeat. Over and over again. He went through the piles with practiced skill and efficiency, motivating himself with the thought of Riza's return. He hadn't seen her since yesterday evening, mostly because he couldn't seem to get out of bed early when he knew he had the day at home. It would be a much needed reprieve to see her again.

Paper, sign, pass. Paper, sign, pass. Paper… Stop. Something was different.

He examined the parchment letter with increasing apprehension and speed, which had almost become alarm by the halfway point. It couldn't be. They couldn't do this. Not again.

It was like cold water down his back as he read the lines, unbelieving. It was so foreseeable that it made him sick. Of course something like this would happen.

Amestris was at war again, it looked like. The paper read 'skirmishes', but the rest of it was clear enough. They were intervening in another country again. Drachma. If it wasn't already, it would be full out war in less time than expected. It always happened too quickly.

It was the part after that, though, that nearly stopped his heart. It was a personal note, sent directly to him as a general from the Furor. A confidence that was not to be let out until it was absolutely certain, but should be made aware to him. If it did not end in the week, a notice would be sent out.

Requiring all State Alchemists, present and past, regardless of current state, to be ready for war.

He could only think of Edward.

**-philos**


	7. Chapter 7

Roy stared blankly at the low ceiling, trying to put together all of the thoughts that now swirled around his head. The white canvas held no more answer than he could muster by himself. The semi-darkness of the basement room only fueled his brooding, lending hand to no respite from this torment. He was still in a state of shock, quickly being permeated with venomous disgust. It was sickening and tiring and terrifying all at once. Perhaps he needed to sort out his emotions more than he needed to his thoughts.

He had no idea how much time had gone by since he'd read the wretched letter. It was crumpled beyond repair in the vice of his grip, though its suffering would do no more good in the situation than punching a wall would. Both of these venues would make him feel a heck of a lot better, though. He still sat in the same chair, back tilted as far as possible to allow his head to rest at a horizontal angle. He held a cool hand to his forehead and recognized the beginnings of a migraine.

Even though all he was able to see was the white expanse of the ceiling, he knew the light had already changed dramatically from when he'd sat down, and guessed that the small window set aboveground would be darkened completely by now. The only light came from his dingy little office lamp that sat on his desk, emitting a soft yellow glow through the thin lampshade. It cast wild shadows across the room when it shown through the stacks of paperwork surrounding it. The darkened streaks played back and forth with Roy's vision, interfering and messing with his already muddled brain.

Riza had come home a long time ago, maybe hours at this point, but hadn't bothered to call him up for dinner. She probably knew that he'd already eaten and had to work now. He planned to tell her what had happened. What would she say? What could he tell her? She would find out soon, he was sure, but he had no idea how to present the problem.

He had no idea how to approach the problem at all. It was like he was stuck, stopped entirely by this massive roadblock that would have to be passed eventually. He was very slowly moving forward now that his thoughts were actually processing, so apparently the street in front of the roadblock was covered in honey. Or squirrels. If he could run over the squirrels…

He shot forward from the chair, rubbing both hands through his hair. What was his mind even doing? This was why he shouldn't leave it unattended. Weird things happened.

He tried to draw what he could from his rather delusional inner monologue and stood up from the chair. He would confront it as soon as he could, facing anything he needed to without hesitation. And now, that meant sharing the news with Riza. He was certain that they could together find more solutions than his shell-shocked brain could put out. They were and always had been an excellent team.

And if not, well, misery loves company.

He crushed the letter even tighter in his grip as he took the stairs, moving quickly up one step at a time. Hopefully it would still be readable by the end of his journey.

Roy pushed the basement door open wider than was necessary for his passage and marched through. He slowed to a halt. He knew that he'd been in the basement for a while, but hadn't really paused to think of the implications, or how long it had actually been. The house around him was dark and empty, light coming solely from the small rectangular night light that was left in the hallway for anyone who might be awake after lights out.

He searched for a clock, all the while trying to puzzle out whether Riza would be asleep or in their room waiting for him. The nearest timepiece was in the kitchen, but he darted around to three different rooms in quiet haste before his brain remembered that. He stepped through the wide kitchen entrance and walked immediately to the clock. He registered that it smelled like spaghetti sauce. He had missed out on spaghetti night. With newfound upset, he looked at the clock's hands, ticking away in unchangeable perpetuation. It was late, only a few minutes before midnight. He could very nearly say that it was early.

He figured that Edward and Isaac at the very least would already be sleeping this late, so he tried very hard to ascend the stairs and tiptoe down the hallway as quietly as possible. Neither of them was a particular treat when woken up abruptly. It was a really _unpleasant_ circumstance, actually, and one he hoped with his life to avoid at all costs. He passed Edward's door on the way to his own, and was forced to stop yet again on his mission. There was a faint stream of light shining out from under Ed's door into the darkened hallway.

This was strange. Edward was usually at least trying to sleep by now. Roy listened at the door first. Nothing. This gave him absolutely no information at all, so he would have to look inside. He gently turned the knob and pushed the door in, letting the light that was hinted at earlier fill the hallway behind him. He could see nothing out of place in the room, and Edward's blonde head was tucked safely on a pillow at the far side of the bed, turned away from him. He sighed in relief. With everything crashing down like this, he was certain that this could only be yet another disaster. He was glad that, for once, it wasn't.

He went to the switch on the wall, figuring that the boy had forgotten to turn it off before he fell asleep. He had his unoccupied fingers nearly upon the switch when he was stopped by a small, tired voice.

"Mustang? What're you doing?"

So he was awake. Roy turned back toward the bed. Edward was now facing him, eyes open and, while definitely fatigued, did not look like he had been sleeping. His face was leveled from exhaustion, and with the weariness was a sort of unguarded, plaintive innocence. This was both intriguing and confusing. He should have been asleep by now if he was tired enough to be this out of it. And that expression reminded Roy of something he couldn't quite place. He knew that he hadn't seen this side of Edward in a very long time, but there was something else…

"Mustang? Why are you in my room? It looks like you've finally come upstairs after working down there for so long." Edward tried to get his attention again when he didn't reply, sounding somewhat more alert now. Roy looked at him in response. The largeness of the bed emphasized how small the boy was, how weak he had become. How fragile. How needing of protection. He looked at Roy with eyes that were confused and concerned, searching for anything that might be wrong.

Roy tried to give him a response.

"Your-" His voice sounded too feeble and he had to start over. "Your light was on, confusing the whole hallway. I had to drop in to see of you'd somehow fallen again."

Edward didn't seem irritated by his comment. Just worn out.

"Yeah, I have been doing that a lot lately, haven't I?" His reply was given with a sigh followed by a sheepish grin. He rubbed his neck bashfully.

"Yeah, you have."

They weren't even trying for conversation anymore. Roy didn't care, really. He was more concerned with Edward's new demeanor. Then, looking closer at the smile, the honest eyes, the trusting sense, he knew why it was so familiar. It was exactly how Isaac acted. No. It was exactly how a _child_ would act. Ed was a child. He had always been a child. It was so obvious now, seeing past all the shields that were normally covering his face, that it nearly floored him. He felt sick suddenly.

"So. So, why are you awake so late, anyway?"

"It's late? Yeah, it must be. I was just, I don't know, reflecting."

It was disappearing fast. Ever so slowly, the walls were returning. Roy felt ashamed that this was his effect on the boy; that he made him put up those defenses.

"Did you take your pill?"

Edward grimaced at the words, and Roy laughed a little internally.

"Yeah. Riza made me take it. Not fun."

"It was okay, though?"

"It went down, if that's what you mean. It's never really okay."

"Well, if it's down then it's down. I'm going to turn the light off now, alright? And you try to go to sleep."

"Okay." He was already slipping, as if Roy's presence finally signaled that it was okay to drift off. Roy went back to the light switch.

"Roy?"

He froze. Edward just called him Roy.

"What's in your hand? Ya keep scruchin' it an' it's gonna be wrecked," he said, slurring his words in exhaustion and gesturing to Roy's other hand. Roy clenched that fist even tighter.

"Oh, nothing. Just some trash I picked up on the stairs."

Edward seemed to accept this and melted onto his pillow. He probably wouldn't remember any of this when he woke up.

Roy flicked the switch and went for the door.

"G'night, Roy. See ya t'morrow."

"Yeah. Sleep well, Edward," Roy returned without looking back and rushed out the door. His heart was pounding.

He couldn't do it. He'd looked at his face, he'd wanted to say something, but in the end he just couldn't tell Edward what was happening. He'd even been asked directly and he couldn't say anything but lies. He felt dirty, lying to such an open face.

He had more difficulty than before trying to move quietly as he went to his own room.

The door opened with a soft creaking, not enough to wake a person but plenty to signal his entrance. Riza was sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, reading a small paperback. She was waiting for him.

"I'd figured that there would be some reason for you to be down there so long," she said before even looking at him, and put the book down on the bedside table without marking a page. Her eyes went to his direction next.

"Do you want to talk?" Her gaze fixated upon him with utmost priority, as if she knew already the gravity of the issue.

Roy said nothing. He walked over to her, unclenched his fist and handed the letter to her. The thing passed between hands in silence. It was one way to break the news. He would let her make her own judgment of the thing, and to do so just let her read it herself. He waited for her to finish. It seemed like eternity, but it must've taken less than a minute. When she was done, she looked to him with grave severity.

"This was more than I was afraid of," she said. Her voice betrayed her concern.

"What are we going to do? We can't go against orders directly here. I have a feeling that the Furor put that last bit in specifically for us. He wants us to be trapped."

"Well, we can't make that assumption immediately. If that is his intent, there won't be any way to get out of it. We have to think that this is escapable, for Edward's sake and our own."

"I swear, he's turning out to be worse than Bradley."

Riza gave him a look.

"Okay, maybe not worse than _Bradley_. But he's picking all sorts of fights out there, and the country will have to pay for it. And he's never acknowledged my rank just because he's a jealous wanton fool."

"He's not inhuman just because he hates you, although I disagree with what he's doing just as much as you do. But he does have some humanity. We'll just have to appeal to that."

"How so?"

"We can file for a disability on Edward's behalf. They can't force him to serve if he can't stand up to march and doesn't have an arm to salute the Furor by. It could work."

"That seems like a plan. But what if he doesn't see that side of things? He's a rat eating bastard if I've ever seen one."

"We'll make him see."

Roy undressed and settled into bed. It was a long day. They continued to talk about possibilities and probabilities for a while after, but it soon became clear that this was their best option. Edward's physical condition couldn't stand the position. They would fight for that cause and wouldn't have to delve into the more problematic side of Edward's mental health, though that was what would really prevent him from being able to do this. Within the hour they had made their argument and plan to execute it. Using Roy's position in the military, they should be able to schedule a meeting with the Furor as soon as tomorrow. It would be done quickly and efficiently, eliminating Edward from the problem. That was all they could hope for.

They would do it, though, because they made a really amazing team.

**-philos**

**Will update at least once a week sometime, every week. Even if it happens to be Tuesday at midnight. It will happen. **


	8. Chapter 8

Roy was awake early for once, but he felt more alert than he ever was in the morning. No bleariness, no want to return to bed. Only the slowly growing anxiety for the day to come. His nerves were growing numb with their constant alertness, and he knew that it would only get worse as the day went on. He hadn't slept much the night before.

He stood now in the master bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. It was the only mirror he owned and was able to use anymore. They took all of the mirrors down shortly after Edward's arrival, when he looked into one of them and had the first panic attack in the residence. More, many, many more, would follow, but they didn't know that at the time. They also hadn't known how to deal with Edward's mental state during the things. They didn't know what caused him to be set off, why he would be acting perfectly normal one second and then screaming for people he didn't remember the next. How he would flash back and think he was somewhere he wasn't, attacking demons that weren't there to defeat. Always with that look of terror and hatred and grief and deranged refusal to accept the past. Every time, that face… Roy shuddered.

They'd later found out that seeing his own face reminded him something of Alphonse and triggered the attack. Roy didn't think Edward remembered that, though. Edward didn't retain a whole lot anymore.

Dawn was nearly lit outside the high arched windows, he could see from the mirror. He'd forgotten that it was so early. The last time he'd seen the sun rise was maybe a few years ago when he'd stayed up the whole night through with enough coffee and paperwork for an army of Roys, and didn't fall asleep until he passed out midmorning. The earliness of the moment bothered him. It was as if it signified that this was such a prominent event that it could control his life, down to when he woke up in the morning.

It was all the fault of that stupid letter, wedging its way into his life and breaking it apart. No, it wasn't just the letter. It wasn't just the meaning of the letter, or the implications of the letter. No, it was the Furor himself.

Hakuro.

He wouldn't be agreeable. That singular man was the wrench in all of their plans. He would, no matter how Riza liked to protest it, argue vehemently against anything Roy wanted to do. Ever. Although, it wasn't as if they could send Riza alone to talk to him. No, after the ordeal over their marriage, he knew by now that they were fighting the same battles.

Roy looked critically at his face in the reflection. It was nearly funny. All of these thoughts and turmoil going on inside of his head, and his face betrayed nothing. It remained the same mask of cool indifference, the same face that he'd had to forge through his years. The face that helped him survive and rise to greatness. It would be useful to him today. No matter how much he'd like to sock the Furor in the jaw, it would not show.

With a final glance at his hair to make sure it kept its windblown elegance, he was out. It was time to face the day.

He stepped back into the bedroom, unsurprised to see the bed made and the clothes he'd strewn arbitrarily on the bedside collected and out of sight. It was like a little trail; just follow the path of neatness and you'd find Riza. She had been up even before him on his earliest day, and there had been no change to her schedule. He figured she liked the quiet of the morning. He could get used to it himself, if he didn't like sleep so much.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and fledgling strands of light found their way into the room through the large glass panes. It was fresh and young, with a cutting edge to it that wasn't present as the day grew older. There was a strange air to it, as well, as if it were eager. Green. It wasn't actually green, but it _felt_ green. The small inklings of warmth that came, too, were tinged with a sharp youth. The experience as a whole made him feel very expectant and awake.

He didn't think he liked it, but that might've been from lack of sleep.

He crept through the room, not really sure what rules of etiquette morning people were supposed to follow, but assumed that one rule was to be quiet. He didn't think Riza had ever woken him up, and didn't want to do so for anyone else. It was really mostly for his own safety. Absolutely everyone he was living with at this point in time was irritable at best if woken up too early.

There was no reason to stay in the bedroom with everything already done for him, so he ventured downstairs for food. Waking up early made a person really hungry. Nothing sounded better than eggs and toast. That might take the some of the edge off of the morning, although he doubted it.

The hallway was empty and quiet, with all of the doors along it shut and blank. It was odd to him, even though he hadn't expected there to be anyone in the hallway, and would have been even more surprised if there were, but the feeling that there were sleeping people behind those doors, comatose to the world and unwary of his presence out here, was just strange. It was completely lifeless.

He wanted to see behind one of those doors, because this feeling was getting to him and he knew it had to be satiated. Screw the rules of morning etiquette, he wanted to reassure his own mind.

He reached for the handle to the nearest door, Edward's, and pulled it open. He really did try to be quiet about it, but that door creaked as if it were some sort of haunted house prop. It needed maintenance, badly. He peered through the few inches of space he'd given himself. There was a clear view of the bed past the opening, which was a relief. He didn't want to readjust the door any more than he had to.

What was less reassuring was the bed's contents. The blonde head was bent awkwardly over the edge, covers torn asunder, pillows mostly to the floor, stacked up on top of each other where they'd fallen off. Roy could see nothing of the rest of the boy but his flesh leg, which stuck out to the side tangled hopelessly in the sheets. It was a mess.

He considered the position the teen held and wanted to go in to make sure he hadn't somehow been snapped in half and left there, but the boy let out a reassuring snore that put Roy's conscious at ease. It must have been another rough night. He was sorry he hadn't heard it, otherwise someone could've come to comfort the child. They used to do that all the time in the beginning, but when the 'bad' nights increased to almost everyday occurrences, it became too often for anyone to bear realistically.

They still came to comfort him, but not as much as they should have. It was depressing and degrading that they didn't.

Gently, he closed the door. Once it had clicked into place, he resumed his tip-toe walk down to the kitchen. It was hard to keep completely silent. Though his movements were lithe and light, the silence gave way to the soft pat of his socks on the carpet. The way that the carpet pushed down beneath his feet would make it impossible for anyone to have complete stealth, but it annoyed him anyway.

He was glad when the carpet gave way to wood at the foyer. One quick turn and he was in the kitchen. Riza was already seated at the bar, sipping her usual morning tea. She acknowledged him with nothing more than a subtle nod to the counter, where a thick white mug sat. He approached it and lifted it to his lips without pause. Coffee, still hot and made dark, met his tongue. Just the way he liked it, as expected. Riza just was that way.

They sat in silence, enjoying their respective drinks and the morning quiet. The early sunlight gradually filled the room, creating short streaks of rainbow where it came through the angles of the window panes. One of them went across his coffee mug, transforming the white to a dazzling array of color. Poetic.

No words needed to be said between them. They had talked enough the night before, and both knew what had to be done to convince the Furor.

Roy's hand shook a little, causing the black contents to splash up and stain the sides. No matter how he reassured himself, the thought of the coming task put a twist in his stomach and a sense of foreboding he couldn't shake. He knew that if they messed up, if this didn't work, everything would fall apart. Things had fallen apart before, but this challenge… was one he couldn't, wouldn't face. Not if it could be helped.

But the fear remained.

He clenched his fist around the mug's handle. Everything would be fine. He lifted the cup and drained the rest of it in a singular gulp. Not such a good idea, since he couldn't really taste anything after and it hurt his esophagus. He left the kitchen in a rush. Riza didn't question his actions or say anything. She knew the situation just as well as he did.

He didn't really know what he was doing then, just that he had to move. Prepare himself. He let his feet carry him as his mind wandered, and soon found himself yet again in front of the mirror in the master bathroom. He fixed his hair. Brushed his teeth. Fixed his hair again. Twice. Soon there was absolutely nothing else he could do, so he went to the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed, running through their plan of action again. It might've been a half hour before he went downstairs again.

When he got to the kitchen again, he was surprised to see a different blonde sitting on one of the barstools. It looked like Edward had decided to wake up early today, although it was very obvious he had just woken up. His hair was a tangled mess, dark circles shaded the hollows beneath his half-closed eyes. One eyelid was drooping a bit lower than the other, giving him a sleepy puppy look. His skin was paler than it was normally.

Edward sat picking pieces of dry cereal from a bowl individually with his fingers, only popping every other one or two in his mouth. Roy knew already that the bowl wouldn't be finished.

"Hey, Fullmetal. What're you doing up?"

Edward yawned and rubbed one eye with a fist as he replied.

"Oh, hey, Romustang. I woke up and couldn't sleep. Even though I'm tired as hell."

Roy smiled as the boy yawned again in the middle of the last word, creating a kind of natural censor. He didn't give another thought to the slip on his name.

"You look it,"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing much. Although it does figure."

Edward stared angrily, waiting for further explanation.

"People grow when they sleep," Roy said matter-of-factly.

"I'm too tired for this, bastard," the boy grunted as he went back to plucking cereal from the bowl. It wasn't yet half finished. Roy wished Edward would have milk with it, a thought he usually grew accustomed to ignoring. But it was true; the small meals and miniscule bites would have more nutrition if he would just add milk to them.

He walked out, leaving the teen to his food. Maybe he would eat more if Roy didn't distract him.

He went about the house again, visiting any room and every room for something to occupy him until the time came to leave. It was hard to stay still, though, so even when he found something to do, like tackling the making of Edward's bed, he had to drop it mid-task and move on to something else. Isaac woke up at some point and ran down to play with Ed.

Riza found him when it was nearly time to leave. He was currently trying to wash the dishes. There were a whopping three of them, so he was halfway done. He had no idea where she'd been, but she came into being to tell him the time. Fifteen minutes to go.

She looked at him with understanding.

He returned it with quiet exhaustion.

She left after that, presumably to disappear to the same place she'd come from, and Edward wandered in thirty seconds later. He looked considerably better now that he'd been awake a while.

"Mustang," was said by way of a greeting.

He hobbled over on a leg and a half to stand in front of Roy, balancing on one foot to assume his full height. It wasn't much, but Roy could see the effect he was going for. He always did this when he wanted to look strong or capable. It was usually when he wanted to do something that Roy would definitely deny him otherwise. The success rate of this strategy was about twenty percent.

"I want to- to try to go outside," he said it with determination, despite the stumble in the middle.

Roy was surprised, although this was, in hindsight, predictable. Of course he would want to go outside eventually, but after four panic attacks from trying it was unlikely that it would be a fruitful expedition. The panic attacks had become more frequent lately, actually. It was only strange now that he considered it.

"Please," the tone softened, "I want… I need to do this."

Roy, even with his doubts, knew that it was true. And he would consent to fulfill his need.

"Alright."

Edward only looked shocked for a moment, then accepted Roy's ruling with unwavering silence.

Roy helped Edward to the door, one of his arms over his shoulder. He could hear Edward breathe in and out heavily as they stood before the exit. They should do this before anyone could have any doubts. It was terrifying, with Ed's volatile condition, standing there. As if on a precipice about to fall off. Dangerous, risky, confusing… all for a door. A stupid door that could cause a lot of pain if it were removed. The thing that separated the safe world from the unknown, as Edward would see it.

One. Two. Three. Roy used his free hand to push the door open and together they stepped into the hot summer morning air.

Edward's eyes widened immediately. Roy could see the thoughts racing behind them, the treacherous thoughts that poisoned his brain, and he wished more than anything that they would stop, that he could stop them. But he couldn't.

Edward fell to his knees and passed sickness into the shrubbery before Roy could do something to prevent it. Then he could only kneel next to the small convulsing figure and rub his back. He wasn't quite sure if this was actually helping at all. After a moment or two that felt like forever, it stopped, and the child slumped into his arms. He had passed out.

Roy sighed. This was a terrible idea. It was completely necessary, and he knew that he probably would've done the same thing if given another chance, although he would grab a bucket before going out then. But the effect was less than desired.

Edward was incapable of leaving the house. They had to be able to convince Hakuro, because Roy had no idea what they would do if they couldn't.

**-philos**


	9. Chapter 9

Roy finished setting Edward down on the couch for the second time in as many days. He would rather not see the figure limp so often, and it seemed to be getting even more frequent lately. Roy wondered if it would keep getting worse as time went on, if they should do something about it… Even though he hated the thought, it was possible that the medication needed to be upped. That could only be a last resort; the side effects were bad enough as it was. He dismissed the thought, mostly because he didn't want to think about it. They had to go now, anyway.

They said their quick goodbyes to Isaac, Gracia and Elysia and went out the door. Roy was relieved that they weren't hard-pressed to find someone to watch the boys. It was convenient, having the Hughes family just a few streets away.

Riza was already in the driver's seat of the car, leaving the passenger seat for Roy. He got in quickly enough for them to snap their seatbelts into place at the same time in equal fluid motions. They wasted no time in clearing the driveway and veering steadily to the street. It was not so long a drive to the offices, but the speed worked to clear both of their minds. It wouldn't hurt to be early, they might be able to find out more about what's going on.

Roy watched the buildings pass by. Normal people were walking on the sidewalks, but he didn't find any familiar faces. It wasn't as if it was likely to begin with. Sure, he'd always been well known and even popular among the women, but he never bothered to learn many of their faces or talk to any on a regular basis. Not like Edward had known them once, long ago. The people's alchemist, they called him. That was years ago. It was a shame that most of them had probably forgotten Ed by now. But the few his life had touched personally, they would remember Edward for as long as they lived. That was certain, and it made it all a little less sad. The people who would fight for Edward just as he'd fought for them, and would still do so even now. Although Roy knew that anyone, anyone who got to know him, would want to fight for him.

Roy looked out at those people, wondering how many of them lived only because of the things Edward had done. There were more people now littering the sidewalks.

The roads became smoother as they got closer to Command. The buildings were more ornate here, as well. The daily bustle and crowding was growing even larger on the street, but that would change when they got within a block of their destination. The government blocked out most civilian interaction. Roy could see why they'd valued Ed so much.

Riza spoke up from the other side of the car.

"If Hakuro doesn't take to the disability argument, should we bring up the other side of it?"

They had discussed this in depth before, but Roy was never sure if it should be one way or the other, but thinking back to the people on the streets, the ones who still remembered the Fullmetal Alchemist, he made up his mind.

"No. If it gets to that point, there'll be no convincing him anyway. If we tell him about the other things, he'll only use the information to spread gossip about it."

"Why?"

"He'd do anything to bury the name Fullmetal. It reminds the people that there was good before he became Furor, and mental instability would be a perfect rumor to tarnish the memory."

"Then why hasn't he done anything yet? He's had enough opportunity."

"I know Hakuro. He's a scumbag, but he wouldn't lie. He thinks too highly of himself for that kind of dirty undertaking. He'll deceive, take liberties with the truth, hide what he wants to, but he wouldn't lie outright."

"He could've found something out if he wanted to over the three years Edward has been out of commission. It would be easy to do; it's not as if he doesn't know where he lives."

"It wasn't immediately necessary for him. Nothing's being actively done against him or putting his power into question, so he hasn't had real motivation. But if we put it right in front of his face he's sure to take hold on the opening and use it to his highest advantage."

"So it's up to whether he'll go for the argument of Edward's being physically unable to fight. We'll just have to hope that it's enough."

"If all that's left is hope, it might not go over well. Hope and the military are mutually incompatible."

"True enough. We'll have to fight for it, then."

"Much more fitting."

The conversation had to end there, as they had pulled in to the front of the Central Command building. Imposing and official as ever. He could only imagine what it looked like to people who hadn't worked there for years and grown accustomed to its monumentality. It must be terrifying.

The grand stairs in front of the entrance were strangely deserted. Odd, considering it was less than an hour before the main swarm of officers came in. The place was usually a madhouse all day, and the real commotion was coming fast. Why, then, would it be empty? The question played in the background of his mind as he strode into the building, Riza behind him a little and to his right. She kept a good pace.

They entered, and Roy was relieved of some of his stress as they saw a few blue-clad figures in the hallway. There was life in the building, at least. Good. He didn't need another potentially apocalyptic situation to go through. Or a war. No, he'd had enough of those. So it was nice to see that Central was running as usual.

They navigated the hallways with practiced ease. The few people they'd seen didn't greet them and they extended the behavior. Roy didn't care about the nameless soldiers, they were practically strangers to him anyway, but he was a little disappointed that none of his crew appeared anywhere. He could've used a dose of their energetic laziness. It was usually an oxymoron, which only made sense when applied to them. Running into them might've helped his mood a little before going in. It wasn't as if he expected to see them, he'd only wanted them to show up. But this early, it was unlikely. They liked the morning hours about as much as Roy did.

He rounded a corner and immediately ran into something, with a good deal of force, from the speed he was going. He was forced back a few feet, but whatever he'd knocked into was sent flying to the ground. He looked down at the figure, Riza soon behind him. It was Sheska. He stood dumbly for a moment, watching her try to find her glasses after they'd been knocked off, until Riza came around his side and helped her up.

"Oh, Sheska, sorry about that," he said a little abashedly, despite himself. At least he'd remembered his manners. And to think he used to be a ladies' man.

"No, no, it's no problem, this happens more than you'd think, actually." Her hands still searched the floor around her blindly for her glasses. Roy picked them up and handed them to her while Riza pulled her up, steadying with an arm. She was all put back together in no time. She fumbled around with a stack of books she'd managed to hold on to as she talked to them.

"So what are you two doing here? I thought General Mustang was supposed to be working from home for the next few weeks."

Roy realized that she was directing the conversation more towards Riza than himself. It frustrated him, but he could she how the shy girl would find talking to another woman more comfortable. It stung, regardless, to have her ignore him completely. He would've liked the attention. Riza was probably more capable at handling it at the moment, though.

"We're only here for a meeting, then I think we'll both be going home for the rest of the day. Business as usual."

"That sounds nice. The going home part, I mean. No, meetings are terrible. Is the subject matter interesting, at least?"

"Not at all. A hassle for the morning, really. Say, Sheska, have you heard anything about the fights at the border lately?"

"Only that they've been getting worse. It looks like we might have to send some people in there, although no one's supposed to know about that yet. Sh, by the way, about that."

"What is the scale of the fighting, by means of how much manpower is needed over there," Riza questioned again, and her voice was the same calm and deductive tone that was her brand. Roy could see what she was doing.

"Hmm, I don't really know for sure. It's looking like they might need a good few soldiers, at least. Things just aren't quieting by themselves."

"I see."

"Yeah, it's been really bad down there, even from the beginning. I don't know who started it, truthfully, but a bunch of fights have been breaking out on the border between here and Drachma. We can't even tell if they're just ragtag little gangs against the Amestrian government, or if it's actually an organized military motion from the other side."

"Has there been a lack of information between here and there? It seems like there's a lot we don't know."

"Yes, actually. The Drachmans have been purposely blocking all of the railroads between the center of the fighting and Central Command. The only information coming in is through individual messengers. And half of those don't even make it back… Things are pretty bad."

"Thanks, Sheska." Riza took off down the hallway, and Roy only paused a moment to send an amused look at Sheska before tagging along. The woman was confused, so just stood there waving.

"Um, you're welcome? What did I help with?!" She started yelling as they got farther away. No one bothered to respond to her. Eventually she just shrugged and pulled a book from her stack, presumably to get lost again in the words until some other unsuspecting person bumped into her.

Roy looked ahead. They were coming up on the Furor's office.

He thought about Hakuro. The man had always been sour about Roy's ambitions, and only grew more so as he ascended to General. Roy didn't understand exactly what he had done to aggravate him, but whatever it was, it sure had been effective. He wasn't one to be accepting of these kinds of things, though, so the hate was mutual. Unfortunately, Hakuro rose through the ranks faster than Roy. He was always in the right places, and beat him to the position of Furor. He had always been a rank above Roy, so it made sense that he would take it first. Maybe it was because he had always been Roy's superior that he felt so vexed by his aspirations.

Whatever the case, they were still quite bitter and would remain so indeterminately. Rivalry and moral disagreement ran deep between them. That was what would make convincing him difficult, if nothing else.

They were at the door. It was thicker now than it had been, even when Bradley served. Hakuro liked his protection.

They went in, and, to Roy's utmost annoyance, sat the bastard of the hour in the grand leather chair behind the coveted desk of the Furor. Roy had imagined himself there countless times before, and seeing Hakuro there made it all the more potent a longing. He was propped up like a princess, filing through papers and inspecting his nails. He heard the door open and looked up at the arrivals with disinterest, followed quickly by contempt. This was going to go well.

"Sir," Roy started, though it pained him to address the man that way, "We are here in regard to the notice you sent out yesterday. I believe I notified you of our coming here to discuss it?"

"Yes, yes… That. Do you have a problem with it, Mustang?"

"The notice stated that all State Alchemists were to participate in the upcoming battle, if necessary, past or present. We would like to address the specifics of this detail, precisely those concerning the involvement of one Edward Elric."

"Fullmetal. What specifics are there to address? Were the implications not quite clear enough for you? All are to be battle ready, no exception."

"There is a need for an exception for Fullmetal. He can't serve in this without limbs, certainly. We'd like to file for his disability, thereby exempting him from the action."

"You'd ask this of me?"

"If you would be so benevolent." The sarcasm in that line slipped out minutely, and Roy hoped desperately that he wouldn't notice.

"Well I can't do that for you, Mustang."

"Why not? He's missing an arm and a leg!"

"Which he had all throughout the duration of his military activity. Are you saying that the exact same problem is limiting him only now? Or is there something else?"

He knows. He knows about Edward and he's just waiting for them to slip up. Roy gritted his teeth.

"No sir, nothing else. But the prosthetics that are available now are much less efficient than the ones he had during his service. One of them is broken even now."

"But his old automail mechanic is still alive, I'm seeing," he said after flipping through a few papers. The efficiency of the revelation was terrifying.

"She is alive, but her ability-"

"She hasn't suffered any accident, still has both of her hands. It is possible."

"We'll find someone…" Riza tried to calm them, looking uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. Roy knew she was trying to appease him, but he wasn't done yet.

"I'm telling you-"

"Enough! I order you, as Furor, to make sure that the Fullmetal Alchemist is completely physically able to go to war to the best of your ability to do so. Because he will go, Mustang. Do whatever you have to to make sure that it works out. I command it."

Roy was silent. He looked to the floor, refusing the inevitable defeat.

"…Yes, Furor," Riza broke in when Roy was unable to. They both, regrettably, left the office. The heavy door swung shut loudly behind them. Roy wanted to punch something.

"We would've done better not to come at all," Riza started as they exited the building. "You know what this means, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"He's going to need real automail to perform the same way he did three years ago, in theory."

"I know."

"We'll have to go-"

"We can't. We just… Can't."

She sighed.

"There might be some alternative elsewhere. There's a place to the south, Rush Valley…"

"I know about Rush Valley," Roy snapped at her harshly. She didn't show any hurt in her face, but he immediately regretted his tone. When he spoke again, it was softened greatly.

"I know all about it. It won't work. The people there have changed, the automail aspects are dying out. The best makers have all moved out to other countries where the demand and pay is higher. There's no one left. No one who can handle Edward, at that. He won't take to any of their practices. The pain and the unfamiliarity would be a lot to handle normally, and he's unstable enough as it is. And he won't take to the travel, either. Hell, he got sick trying to walk out the front door earlier. And with the circumstances he'll be under in the military, it will need repairs."

"We could hire someone to come out here to stay. One of those people who moved out of Rush, maybe."

"I've already said it. There's no one left to contact. No one else will make pieces with the quality he needs."

"You sound like you want this to be the only option."

"Of course I don't want it to be this way! Of course I don't want to have to put him, her, any of us, through that. I don't want it to be, but this is the only option."

"..We should see the train times, and call for them to come-"

"No. We have to go out there."

"But Ed-"

"Will have to manage it. As bad as he is, she…" He trailed off. They both knew.

"You said he was sick from trying to leave the house. How is he supposed to travel all the way to Resembool?"

"He's got worse to face in the time to come."

**-philos**


	10. Chapter 10

Edward sat back in the low-set leather chair. He didn't like that he had to look up at Roy and Riza from so far down. They were standing in front of him side by side like a wall out of nervousness, and he would be too if he'd been able to stand. He fidgeted around a little in the seat, because it felt more like a rock prison now than a chair. They stared at him in uncomfortable silence.

Riza looked downtrodden and thoughtful, whereas as Roy just looked disgusted. Edward knew that all of it was directed toward himself. He knew that he was weak and useless and only caused them more problems. But right now, he wasn't sure if they should be yelling at him or he should be yelling at them, because neither was happening and either was all too likely to.

He waited for them to continue, but it looked like Riza was going to cry. He knew she never would, but the fact that she _looked_ like it _might_ be a possibility was comparable to a normal person sobbing on the floor. It was bad.

They hadn't told him too much, but what they had left him reeling. He could not go to Resembool. He barely remembered what it was, and it hurt with a sharp stinging pain to try to remember, but what he could gather about it only brought pain and sickening sorrow. He did not like the idea of Resembool.

Even more so, he did not think it was possible, let alone want to, go outside the house again. It was a failure. He was a failure. He got stuck on that singular thought for a while. Failure. Failure. He knew that he was blanking out, just as well as he knew that he couldn't feel much emotion right now because he was in shock. He was aware of this, but he didn't like accepting it.

Roy and Riza still stood in front of him. They were waiting for a response now. He didn't know what he could give.

"So. So, that's… I… Can't." The last word was muffled behind the hand he'd drawn to his face. It was too hard to admit defeat to them, these brave people. He wondered again why they let him live here.

"What was that, Edward?"

"I-I can't. I can't go."

One of them sighed, but he couldn't tell who it was because his eyes were closed now. He didn't remember closing them, but it had probably been on a reflex. There was a strange burning behind is eyes that gave him a bad feeling. They couldn't see whatever it was.

Tears. He was on the verge of tears? Why?

He felt like it had everything to do with that place, Resembool.

"He has to go…"

"What can we do about it? He's stuck…"

They were talking about him. He tried to open his eyes, but found that he couldn't. That was strange.

"We can- we can take him overnight. If it's right after the medication…"

"We'll leave Isaac with Gracia…"

They continued to finalize plans, but Edward was falling fast. The voices receded, only to be replaced by louder ones, ones he didn't recognize but felt he should. They became a cacophony, raging within his skull. A scream. Sobbing. _Alphonse_.

His eyes shot open. Roy and Riza were still there, he was still in the seat. Everything was the same. They didn't seem to notice his sudden burst into consciousness.

He watched the talk for a while, but he didn't really grasp what they were saying. Only a word here or there actually came through, but he dismissed it automatically. It just hit him. He would have to leave the house.

"_What_ are you _thinking_?!"

The adults looked down to him in shock. He couldn't tell if it was because he was awake or because he was yelling. Probably both.

"What kind of conditions could there be for this? Why… Why do this now?!"

"Edward, please,"

"No, I just, I don't want to-"

"Don't want to what?" Roy cut him off strictly, the same way he would have if he were still his Colonel. Edward's eyes widened before narrowing defiantly. His eyebrows lowered and he frowned even more so than he already had been.

In truth, he was terrified. As much as that fact sickened him, it was true.

"I don't want you to do this to me! I don't want to be overdosed just to ride a stupid train or even leave the stupid house! I don't want you to look at me like I'm lost, I don't want you to have to help me all the time… And I don't want to go to Resembool!" He screamed at the end and his voice cracked, to which he flinched irrevocably. He slumped down again in the chair and looked at his clenched fists. As if he could fight.

"Edward…"

"No, _no_, I'm done, really. Please, just… leave. I can't even do that much on my own anymore so I have to ask you to go instead. Isn't that just pathetic?" He finished it off with a chuckle and a grim smile.

He was horrified to find that liquid was running down his face. Not much, but enough to make his little tantrum all the more humiliating. A hand reached down to brush the fluid away, but he turned his head and recoiled from it. The hand dropped in defeat.

He refused to look up at them, and eventually they left. He held still as a statue until he was sure that they were gone. They went away in silence, but he could tell that they'd had a nonverbal argument before deciding to leave him. It looked like someone won out. The room was still. When he was perfectly alone, he lifted an arm to his face and wiped the tears away furiously. He was being such a baby about this. All they wanted to do was take him out of the house, get his leg fixed…

The leg that he broke. It was still his fault, and even then he couldn't go out. They didn't ask any more than that of him, that he go outside for once. Go to that place, Resembool. He couldn't let go of that name, Resembool. There were lots of things that he couldn't remember, but that one seemed really important. He put his head into his hands, running both flesh and manufactured fingers through his hair.

It was hopeless trying to remember anything. When he first started caring about the memories, about two years ago, he'd tried to reach into them. He would chase a thought until he passed out or threw up, but it never got him anywhere. It was doubtful that he would ever remember everything, the doctor said. Doctors. He shuddered. That was one thing he didn't miss about the outside world.

Edward shook his head and sighed, for no one to hear but himself. How did he get to be so weak? He was just a burden, something that needed taking care of. He wasn't able to leave.

He was strong, a while ago. He used to be brave and careless and free… He remembered those things. He missed it sorely.

Maybe, maybe he could be that way again. He just had to work on it. Yeah, he could at least try to work through his fears. He owed that much to Mustang and Hawkeye. He decided then, sitting up straighter with a grim determination that he would go to Resembool. No matter what it took from him.

He was still worthless, but he could do what they wanted. From now on, he would do whatever they needed him to.

IEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIE

Riza looked unsteadily at Roy. They were in their room, Riza on the edge of the bed and Roy pacing lightly in short circles in front of her. She caught his gaze and he sighed in return.

"Why is he like this?"

He gave no response at first, so she continued.

"Hating himself, acting so spiteful. Why?"

She sounded anxious and slightly hurt. Roy knew that she probably worried that they were doing something wrong. They were.

"It's because of the medication."

"The pills? How long has he been-"

"I raised the dosage as of last night, doctor's request. It messes with the brain's chemicals, so side effects like this were… not predictable, but to be expected."

She looked disgusted and tired.

"It had to be done. He was getting worse, the flashbacks…" He trailed off. They both knew that they had been getting worse lately.

He turned away from her.

"He has to be on it this heavily, at least until the automail is done. We can figure something else out from there, but for now…"

He broke off into silence. He was filled with his doubts about this, and tried to reign them all in. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Riza there.

"I understand. Until the automail is done."

"Agreed."

**-philos**


	11. Chapter 11

They were on the very first train to Resembool the next morning. It was muggy and humid in the morning air, and though cool tendrils of night still clung to his ankles, Roy could tell that this would be another horribly roasting day. This summer was just unforgiving, to tell the truth. Every day was hotter than the last, and this one already promised to follow that trend. He wished it was autumn. At least then he could use his alchemy without causing the air to roast.

It was proving somewhat difficult to travel with an unconscious teenager, especially in the heat. They had to give him an extra dose in the morning to make sure the effect would be lasting throughout the trip, and he was completely dead to the world in less than an hour. Carrying him around was hard enough, but the stares it earned from the people they passed were miserable. It must've looked pretty weird, hoisting a limp child around on his shoulder, but what was he supposed to do? Stuff him in a duffle bag? Actually… No, no. It was too late now. Darn.

He and Riza managed it, though, and they were seated safely in their car now, away from the view of the nosy passerby. She was sitting across from him in their compartment, reading some sort of book she'd brought along. He wished he'd thought of that. It was a long ride to get to the country and he had nothing to pass the time, save for a few paperclips he'd found in his pocket. Just great.

It didn't help that he was propped up at the very edge of the seat, so that his shoulder was pressed against the hard glass of the window, to make room for the small body that was spread across the rest of the bench. At least Edward was sleeping peacefully. Even with all the bad effects they had, at least they guaranteed a dreamless, heavy sleep. He was thankful for that much. And with the extra pills, it was unlikely that that would change anytime soon. Hopefully it would hold until they got to the Rockbells'.

Edward's eyebrow quirked up a bit. Maybe it was too much to hope. But the face relaxed and went back to blank amity, so he made note of it but took no action. The way Edward was lying right then, on his back with his arms folded together and that face so plain and calm, it was nearly corpselike. He shook his head. It was terrible to think of such things, especially after everything that he'd gone through. Even before the incident three years ago, Edward had risked his life a lot. Quite a bit more than the average preteen would. They were lucky that he was alive now. So to think of him like that… It made Roy nervous. But those thoughts were ridiculous. They were in no danger now, unless Edward's potential social interaction was viewed as dangerous, and they'd made it through all that. So this… Piece of cake.

He chose to stop thinking right then, to eliminate the threat of any more tangents. He just looked out the window and watched the passing scenery. All that could be done now was to wait. The train ride hadn't lasted fifteen minutes and already he was like this. It was going to be a long, long ride.

The train that they'd taken had been more or less the first one they could grab, so the usual amenities were not present. It was a lousy, third rate tug-a-chug that jostled around with every slightest bump and made too much noise. Really, they could've waited a while longer for a better quality train, couldn't they? Was it too late to switch? He wanted to switch. It wasn't fair. And then he could've slept a bit longer in his own bed, which he would've gladly done because two days in a row of waking up early was really not working for him.

There was no chance of getting any rest now, with this blasted bumping and rumbling. He almost wished he had been put to sleep in a manufactured way as well. He looked down again to Edward. The train's movement was not going well down there, either. The boy was practically being thrown around with the force, and the limp limbs only accentuated the force with which they were being tossed. Roy reached around and pulled the blonde head into his lap. There, it was a little better now that he had someone to steady him. As he surveyed the child to make sure that nothing was getting crushed in the new position, the eyebrows twisted together again and one hand came up to grasp Roy's shirt. The movement was cautious, but rushed underneath with desperation and panic. As soon as it found purchase, his face smoothed out again.

Roy took one of his own hands and placed it over top of the smaller one that clung to the hem of his shirt. He hoped it was comforting.

He returned his gaze to the window and watched the scenery rush by, the passing tracks keeping time with the bouncing of the train. He continued to direct his vision that way, but his mind stayed on the hand beneath his own. He really did hope that this wouldn't turn out to be a disaster.

They arrived at the Resembool station without further incident and in whole pieces, if a little sore in the rear. Edward, thankfully, had slept the whole time and did nothing, except flinch quietly once when Roy accidentally caught the long hair in one of his shirt buttons. It took forever to get that untangled, mind you.

They left the station once again with Edward's limp form aver Roy's shoulder and a goal to get to. They had to make it to the Rockbells' now.

Fortunately, Riza remembered to call ahead and have a car dropped off at the train station so they could travel the loosely populated countryside without difficulty. It was there ready for them to use, a little dinky black thing that would barely hold the three of them. They packed in without a word, Edward set down in the back seat and Roy and Riza occupying the driver and passenger's up front.

Roy tried to buckle the seat belt awkwardly across Edward's horizontal position with mild success, but he was still apprehensive about the kid falling off the seat, with all the hilly area that they had to cross. Riza only seemed to care about getting them there before the pills wore off, so Roy was alone in keeping him steady. It was not helpful that Riza was driving like a madwoman.

They got to the automail shop in minutes, and Roy was sure that between her driving and the train ride, he was going to have motion sickness for weeks. He was uncertain about his ability to even remove himself from the car, let alone carry Edward inside and deal with the situation in there. But Riza was already gone and they really were just wasting time. The medication wouldn't last much longer now, and they had yet to go in the house.

Roy stepped out of the little car, and the ground greeted his foot much sooner than he thought it would. He didn't think about the low set of the car, and combined with the motion sickness, he stumbled a little. Just a little, but it was enough to make him embarrassed.

There had been many phone calls between the Mustangs and Pinako, most of them from Riza, and they had reconciled for their differences in the past. Or, in the case of Roy and Pinako, reached a mutual tolerance. Even though all of that was true, Roy knew that she would be watching for them from the window and would most definitely not let this slip up go without some sort of teasing. It was malicious, when it came from her. She was a scary lady.

He continued casually as if nothing had happened, getting Edward out of the back without meriting the ominous window with so much as a glance in its direction. Maybe seeing Edward after all this time would take her mind away from his stumble.

As he redirected his gaze to the wide rolling hills around, he noticed another man walking down the dirt road, leading some sort of donkey with him. Considering the place they were in, it might've been a horse. He didn't know. The stranger gave him a nearly hostile look as he walked up the opposite hill. It shouldn't have been so disconcerting, as they'd had plenty of odd stares between here and Central, but something about the fact that he was the only other person around made it more personal. He made it a point to avoid looking in that direction, as well.

He was running out of places to set his eyes, though.

Roy hoisted Edward up over his shoulder and went inside the house. Riza had already gone in ahead of them. Good. Maybe she'd distracted Pinako in time.

He maneuvered gingerly through the doorway, trying to edge in without hitting any of his or Edward's limbs on the way. Shutting the door behind him, he heard the old woman's voice.

"Nice trip out there, Musty."

Or maybe she had seen the whole thing and laughed at him. Damn, that old…

"Put Ed down on the couch there. Riza tells me that he'll be up soon, so just leave him."

"Right," he continued talking as he did what she asked. "We should probably get started here as soon as possible. Is Winry around?"

He finished arranging Edward's limbs and joined Pinako and Riza in the kitchen a few feet away.

"There is no 'we' here, General," she said, spitting out his rank like it was the foulest insult possible. "You'll just be sitting on your lazy bum while we do the work."

He ignored her usual attitude. Things would never be completely docile between them.

"And Winry?"

"She's upstairs, as usual. You should know this by now."

"Is she… Does she know about Edward? That he's here?" Riza brought up the question this time. Roy was thankful; they might get a straight answer if she was the one talking.

"She doesn't yet. She wouldn't pay attention even if I shouted it at this point, but she'll respond to seeing the boy in the flesh."

"Okay. Should we go up to get her?" Roy ventured.

"Or what's left of his flesh. What have you been feeding him, air?"

"Do you want to go get her?"

"No, no. It would be better if we just brought Edward to her."

"I don't think-"

"Don't get your military britches in a bundle. It will be fine."

"If this backfires, it's on your head, then?"

"Watch it, Musty."

"Fine, fine. We do it your way," he responded calmly. On the inside he was panicking about Edward's condition and the implications of this arrangement, but he went along with it. He didn't know all that much about Winry's condition as of late, or how bad it could've gotten if she wasn't listening to Pinako anymore.

They were cut off by a groaning behind them. Roy spun around just as Edward started sitting up. He was still mostly asleep, but it was like his body knew to move immediately. Roy started toward the boy, all the while cursing that the meeting would have to be sooner than later. That Edward would have to wake up in this strange environment at all. Edward was waking up a little more by now.

"Wha- Wha's goin' on? Are we there?" He opened one eye half way, though the other one seemed stuck in place, and stared blankly around him. There was no panic evident, or anything at all really. Not even mild curiosity about his surroundings. Just flat fatigue. It could be that this place was familiar on a subconscious level and wasn't immediately linked to the past in Edward's mind. If that was true, then the panic would come later.

"Yes, we have arrived. Feel free to get up at any time, it's not as if we have things to do or anything. No Edward, we came out here solely to let you spend the time sleeping on a couch."

"Geez, ya bastard. I'll get up. You don't have to be such a bastard about it," he threw back tiredly. It didn't look like his heart was really much in the banter, but he tossed his legs over the side of the couch. His slumped posture was tilting slightly to the right. Without most of his left leg, it looked as if he was going to fall over. He didn't seem to notice or care.

"Come on. We have to go on a little walk now. You can manage that much, right?" Roy said it mockingly, but he was serious about the question. He didn't know if Edward was capable, or ready for this. He didn't know if he himself was ready for this. But he reached down, regardless, and pulled the smaller up to stand on his remaining foot. He was unsteady at first, and was slow to regain balance.

He looked up at Roy through half-lidded eyes, shielded with grogginess. Shadows of their previous flame danced around absently in them as he dared Roy to take him forward in his tired state. Roy accepted the challenge and turned, dragging the teen along.

They marched straight past Riza, but Pinako was already waiting ahead to lead them up the stairs. There was no hesitation from her and they continued to ascend. Roy let his doubts bow down in favor of his determination. Edward was too tired to really register what was going on, so that might make this run smoother than it would have. It could make it a lot worse as well, being shocked like that after sleeping, but he could hope that it was the former. If he didn't believe that, he wouldn't be able to go up these stairs.

They reached the top, and the old woman led them to Winry's room. Last second dread filled his veins. He had the feeling that he did not want to see the girl behind that door. He'd seen what state she'd been in a year and a half ago, and that was when she had still been responsive. If she was even worse than that, now… It wasn't going to be a pleasant experience. That was certain. He paused. Edward made no complaint or sign that he even realized they'd stopped at all.

"Can you do the work, old woman? We can leave the girl out of it that way," Roy inserted quickly. Pinako did not look pleased. She wasn't particularly angry, but the look on her face was definitely negative.

"I'm afraid that my bones aren't so good anymore," she said quietly as she held up her hands. "And my eyes don't see too well, either. I haven't been able to do anything but teach the theory in years. But Winry, she has, believe it or not, been honing her skills this whole time. She's quite the master."

Roy returned to the door in grim silence. Winry would have to be enlisted for this task. Gently, he rotated the knob and cracked the door. It was dark inside. He opened it up a bit more, and found nothing through his line of sight but piles and piles of _stuff_: clothing, machine parts, discarded food, garbage, scraps of metal. Scattered in mounds across the room for as much of it as he could see, and it was presumably the same way throughout the rest of the area. Yes, things had definitely gotten worse since he'd last been here.

He leaned forward on the door, dragging Edward with him, and went all the way inside. It was not completely dark, as he'd first thought, but dimly lit with a dingy little desk lamp from the other side of the room. It sat on a table on the far side of the room, serving as the only source of light because the curtains were thick and shut as tightly as possible. It was isolated from the outside, so one could never know the difference between day and night. He tried to step in a little farther to see what else was on the table, but found it difficult to move through the litter of things that nearly coated the floor and stacked up in places into piles, some of which were Roy's height. He shifted around them, making sure that Edward managed to find a way through as well. It was trickier than he imagined it would be.

He finally got inside far enough to see the bent over figure at the desk. She was working furiously, moving her arms around, maneuvering different tools and checking measurements. All around a large hunk of metal that nearly resembled an armor helmet. A finished chest plate sat on the floor to the side of the desk, but he couldn't see any other pieces than that one. Perhaps there were no more.

He studied the advancements she had made on the helmet. It didn't look like she'd gotten too far, so it probably wouldn't be recognizable enough to send Edward into madness. He would try to keep the _thing_ out of his view, anyway. Just to be safe.

They walked up directly behind her, but Winry was lost in her own two-foot universe, where there was nothing but her and the dead. It was sad to watch. Her hands flew about ceaselessly, and she would shake her head every once in a while, as if in disagreement with herself. She did not acknowledge the presence of anything else.

Pinako came up to her and shook her shoulder, telling her gently and patiently that there were people there to see her. She did not respond. The woman grasped the girl's shoulder again, but nothing. No change at all from her obsessed behavior. Eventually Pinako just grasped the sides of the chair she was sitting on and turned it around sharply, so that she was yanked away from her vision and had the faces of the Colonel who killed her parents and the emaciated face of an old friend shoved forcefully into her face.

She did not seem to see them at first. Her eyes were still glazed over with the rhythm of her work, stuck in that world that only she lived in. Then she began to see. She looked at them harder, struggling to focus on their faces. Comprehension was slowly coming into her face, and when she realized who exactly it was that she was seeing, the shock of the forceful change morphed into terror, and then sadness. She was looking at Edward.

The only emotion she held in her features as she looked at him was incredible sorrow. It was then that Edward, who had been falling asleep against Roy's side, jolted up and spurred into wakefulness. He opened his eyes to see Winry's face covered with tears.

Roy saw that Edward was standing on one leg perfectly fine on his own, so he backed away from the two. From a distance, he could also see that Edward was shaking.

It was in his stance, Roy knew that the boy was fighting his hardest to stop an attack from coming on. He was fighting it with the heaviest willpower and resolve that Roy had ever seen him fight it. And he was apparently winning the battle. Even though he was quaking and rigid, he stood firm on his only leg and stayed calm in front of his childhood friend.

Winry just stood there dumbly, crying as she looked over Edward's pale, thin form and haunted face. Her hand trembled up and shot back down again, over and over, as she debated in her mind whether or not to reach up to touch that face. Whether she was brave enough to see if he was real.

Edward did not have that same indecision. He reached up with his flesh hand and wiped the tears from her face.

"Now, don't cry. I don't know why you're crying, but don't cry. It's okay, see?"

Edward's attempts to calm her down only made her cry harder.

"Oh, come on, whoever you are. Stop that. You don't need to be sad, alright? Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be okay. Things are always okay after a while, you just have to move forward."

Winry had not seen Edward, not even once since the incident. She did not know how Edward was sick now, what kind of effect Alphonse's death had had on him. But she knew in that moment that Edward did not know her anymore, and the tears poured harder down her face as she leaned into him. His leg was not strong enough to support them both, so he cautiously lowered them to the floor. He wrapped his right arm around her back.

"Please, don't cry."

Her sobs began to slow down, and she was nearly calm as she laid her head on his collarbone.

Roy could see Edward's face clearly when they were there on the floor, and he could tell that that panic was still fighting to surface. He was doing a magnificent job of pushing it down, and Roy could also see the confusion there. He had no idea why this girl crying caused him such pain. Those thoughts took a backseat to comforting Winry until now, but as she calmed the panic was beginning to return. There wasn't much time before it overcame him now. This would have to go fast,

Roy let them finish the moment. Winry stroked Edward's hair, grasping for reassurance, and he patted her back awkwardly in return. They rose gradually from the floor together. Edward was smiling at her for her own comfort. The line that kept his sanity was thinning.

Roy made sure that it was a quiet affair, sneaking over to Edward's side and catching him as he fell. Another good thing about the pills: violent side effects of the episodes were negated. He fell directly to sleep whenever the stress became too great.

He took Edward away. Winry was occupied by Pinako, who was briefing her on what she needed to do. The instructions for constructing entirely new automail, from the snippets that Roy heard of the conversation, were too complicated for any common prosthetics man. More than what a skilled craftsman could handle, he would guess. But the Rockbells had this down to a science. Winry could handle it, he was sure.

He carried Ed down the stairs again and put him on the couch, where they could operate easily. It was helpful that he still had his old ports and only needed the parts, otherwise this could've been a year-long process.

Roy went back to the kitchen, where Riza still waited patiently. He dropped into one of the wooden chairs and waited with her for the other two to come down. It took them a good fifteen minutes, most of which Roy imagined was probably spent on convincing Winry to come out of her room. It would be difficult for her to leave 'Alphonse' behind. She was convinced that she could fix him, and everything would be back to normal. She was stuck in this delusion, and never came out. It was all she had.

Hope truly does destroy in this world.

**-philos**

**I just wanted to thank all of you for sticking with it this far. It means a lot.**


	12. Chapter 12

Roy was sitting impatiently in the kitchen, listening to the soft tinkering sounds emanating from the living room. Winry had been working on Edward's automail for a while now, but they had to wait it out in the separate room for the work to be completed. It was exhausting.

Winry hadn't yet seen any of them other than Edward, so he couldn't quite say what her reaction would be if she noticed them. Maybe she wouldn't. In all reasonable thinking, it was possible that she would be taken back upstairs to that darkened room and continue her endless and predetermined to be fruitless quest to save Alphonse from a fate he had already succumbed to. Or, in equal probability, she could come out of that room and into theirs, the fixing of Edward completed, and look around at all of their faces without seeing them still. Her mental state would block them out as unnecessary or unimportant when there was no one to be fixed.

That was probably the key in all of this. Fixing people. Her primary goal was to repair Alphonse so that he could be whole again, or as whole as a soul bound to a metal suit of armor could be, regardless that she'd forgotten already about his human body. If there was any way she could bring Al back, the armor was the most viable path. Winry wasn't an alchemist.

But Edward came, broken and tattered, and she'd seen that as a detour. Something else to be done, to be fixed, and most likely he was the only broken thing that had the ability to sidetrack her as he'd done. He was the other half of the childhood pair that were so dear to her. She did not see Ed as the remaining one, or the overpowering half, all that was left of them. No, to her eyes, Edward and Alphonse were still equals.

Edward could be fixed more easily, though, and, despite whether she was conscious of it even now, he could actually utilize the repairs to form real function. Al could not, and Ed became priority. She wasn't aware of that, though. She just fixed him because he was there to fix. It was only in the very back of the deepest, darkest crevices of her mind that she knew that Alphonse couldn't return. But in her forward thinking, that wasn't the case. With every other fiber of her being, she believed that the suit of armor destroyed was the total undoing of Al, that if only that could be reversed, then he would come back.

It was her illusion. But perhaps, when death occurs, they all form illusions. It was easier to have an illusion than to be left with that hole. Roy could tell that much from experience. It was all too common for war-trained soldiers to come up with some sort of self-detrimental coping strategy. It was bad enough that they'd lost someone, but that that person brought others down with him in the process was even worse.

Death was an ugly affair, and these kids had had so much of it in their lives. It was too much. They were bound to break eventually, and the departure of someone so close to them finally did it.

Roy realized that his back was getting quite sore. Darn these wooden chairs, and this countryside frugality. He shifted around, chain of thought broken. The chair's legs squeaked loudly on the hard floor, but no one in the room flinched or made any sign of recognition.

It had just been that much of a wait, the baited, struggling, endless kind of wait. They were all bearing the same horrible experience, trying to last out here without being able to check on what happened _in there_. It was awful. He'd hate to create a mental link such as this, his years begging against it, but they all cared deeply about at least someone in the next room. It was painful to sit it out like this, with the both of them out of sight.

He hoped the work would go by quickly, because he couldn't stand this much longer.

They'd been sitting in various places around the kitchen since it started. None of them wanted to move or talk, really, so they sat in silence. Roy cast a glance at both of the other inhabitance. At least their silence left him room enough to think about the situation.

Riza was leaning back in her equally uncomfortable wooden chair, looking like she was about to fall asleep. He wondered if she'd slept at all on the way here. It was hard to say, with him being busy managing Edward's unconscious load. He would bet that she hadn't, by the way she looked now. Although, he was sure that if need be she was perfectly alert and ready for any coming situation.

Pinako sat low in her chair, a squat stool in the corner. Roy pondered briefly about that one's comfort level, but left the thought unfinished. Pinako's eyes were calm and assessing, face set in a mask of grim patience. Every feature led blatantly to her determined wisdom. It surprised Roy, even though it shouldn't have. So she wasn't just a crazy, government hating old bat after all. Good to know.

Roy realized with some note of revelation that he trusted these people. Actually trusted them, as much as he could trust anyone else. His war comrades, his team, anyone. Riza should have been a given, but the mere fact that he was surrounded by souls whose decisions he could trust were the best and feelings he knew were pure and non-conspiratory, well, that was an amazement in and of itself.

The fact that Pinako was included in this admission was even more earth-shattering. What the hell was he doing trusting Pinako?

Even so, it felt… nice. Nice to have people he was able to trust. And that he knew they were completely alone like that, well, that was something he could never find in Central. Maybe there was something to this country living after all.

He felt a sharp pain in his lower back from sitting in the same position on that damned wooden chair again.

So no. Country life was for the old and the stupid. But still, he was thankful for the quiet.

"Hey, Musty, stop marking up my floor. Those chairs aren't meant to move like that."

There were no advantages.

And he still had no idea when Winry would finish already so he could get his Edward and leave.

**-philos**

**And happy birthday to me, whooooo**


End file.
